


Moments of Change

by carteblanchhe



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Allusions to Sexual Assault, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Kinda OOC (Peeta's gay! Cato's gay!), Lots of Angst, M/M, Major Character Deaths (C'mon it's the hunger games!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carteblanchhe/pseuds/carteblanchhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta feels a change come over him and ends up volunteering for the 74th Hunger Games. He knows he will probably die, but he never expected to fall for one of the Careers or become something more than just another tribute. Based on the first book with my own twists along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! And welcome to my first ever fanfiction that I've posted here! I created this story last summer and posted it on fan fiction.net, so you may have already read it but now that I have an account here I wanted to move it on over. I'm doing some editing to the story in general now that some time has passed so I wont do a whole fic dump, but I will probably do one or two updates a day, if not more as I go back through the story and clean it up. I'm also currently working on a sequel to this, so if you like it be on the look out for that too! I really hope you enjoy this story, I know it's quite different from most Peeta stories, so I would love to hear any and all feedback. 
> 
> This will follow Peeta Mellark's experience as he volunteers for the 74th annual Hunger Games and falls for his fellow tribute Cato. How will he become the symbol of hope for his district and how will the games end when he realizes he has more to loose than he ever thought possible? There can only be one winner. Follows the basic premise of the first book with major divergences. 
> 
> Also the first chapter may move a little fast, but only because I wanted to move us quickly to where my story really takes place. So don't think thats how all the chapters will be. And if you feel like I forgot a tag, let me know!

The Reaping

The morning just continued to drag on, and on, and on. He was used to these types of days by now, which seem to have been increasing in frequency for the past few months. Maybe they felt what he was beginning to feel. Something was changing inside him. A small knot had formed inside his chest and increased in discomfort each day until he could no longer ignore it. He was starting to feel less willing to accept the conditions of which he had been born into, less willing to be the punching bag, less willing to hide his true self, who ever that might be. Peeta Mellark was starting to feel defiant and ready for something to change.

Everyone was now gathered in front of the Justice Building, like they do every year, while the Mayor and Effie Trinket talked quietly in their seats, the third empty. Haymitch Abernathy was always late to the reapings and usually appeared completely plastered. Peeta was feeling fidgety, more so than usual. He had been through countless reapings and he was more than ready for this one to end. He looked around at all the other boys in his section—his two brothers farther back from him—and took in the sad sight. Everyone dressed in his or her best clothes was quite a different scene from what the district usually looked like, but even their dressed up appearances couldn't hide the dirt, soot and general dinginess that permeated the district. Stifled sobs and sniffles could be heard all around, creating a massive echo of pain and misery.

They all suffered through another reading of the history of Panem and Effie's inappropriately bubbly personality as she finished with "And may the odd's be _ever_ in your favor."

Peeta rolled his eyes. The odds were in no ones favor but the Capitol's. Thankfully Haymitch added some levity to the situation when he showed up drunk and stumbled into a distraught Effie. The Mayor quickly rose from his seat to help escort Haymitch to his chair on the stage.

First the female Tribute had to be chosen and Effie wasted no time sinking her hand into the giant bowl and fishing out a name after regaining her composure. The show must always go on. She unfurled the paper at the microphone and read in her saccharine voice:

"Katniss Everdeen."

Peeta balked. Fuck, of all the tributes he had seen chosen over the years, this was the first person selected that he had known well enough to actually care about. A few years ago when her father died in an awful mining accident she was starving and he had given her some bread he burnt on purpose. It got him a pretty nasty beating with a rolling pin by his mom, but he couldn't just stand by and let her family starve. People needed to stick together in District 12; no one else was looking out for them.

After that Peeta thought maybe he had feelings for her. He tried to befriend her but her pride kept them at a distance. He could at best classify her as an acquaintance, although a friendly one. He soon realized he didn't have real feelings for her. In actuality he was just trying to prove to himself that he wasn’t attracted to men. Yet that proved a fruitless endeavor. Any feelings he had for her were purely of the friendship type. He could only get excited when thinking of a guy and developed his first crush at 13 on another boy in their grade, but was too afraid to ever do anything more than just steal glances at him from the back of the classroom, never letting his eyes linger long enough for anyone to notice.

Primrose could be heard sobbing her sister's name as Katniss walked bravely, with her head held high, to the stage. The scene could not have been more tragic, especially that most knew the circumstances of her family. Peeta was feeling something slowly build in his stomach. The knot constricted painfully in his chest. He couldn't place the feeling, but he knew he couldn't stand for this injustice inflicted upon them year after year. 

Effie flustered about Katniss, cooing over her _marvelous_ looks and strong attitude. Then she went over to choose the male Tribute. Her hand snapped out of the bowl quickly and she marched back over to the microphone to read the next death sentence.

"Riece Wilshurn."

 _No_ , he was only twelve years old. It was his first year in the bowl, how could this happen? It was an unfair and horrible fate; it always was when such a young kid was chosen for the games. Suddenly, Peeta felt something click like two ancient cogs long decommissioned now stirring with new life and purpose as they fit together and churned in his stomach.

As the boy slowly marched to the stage, silent tears streaming down his face, Peeta cried out, "I-I volunteer as tribute!"

If Peeta thought it was quiet before, it was absolutely silent now. No one volunteered in District 12. It was like the entire district took a collective breath and then held it. The baker's son had just volunteered to take the place of some kid he didn't even know. But that didn't matter to Peeta. He just clenched his jaw and started to walk up to the stage, ignoring the acid tickling the back of his throat and focusing on making his legs not turn to jelly. He reached the boy halfway up the aisle.

"It's okay now. I'll do this for you." Peeta leaned down to whisper.

Riece looked up at Peeta with such adoration and thanks he felt better already, more confident than ever.

"Th-thank you… You b-better win!" The boy squeaked. He then scurried back to his friends in joyous reprieve before the fates threw another twist his way.

A peace settled over Peeta as Effie finally realized the enormity of the situation she was in; District 12 had a volunteer! She waved aside normal protocol and ushered him on stage with pink jewel encrusted fingernails digging into his bicep. The rest was just a hazy memory to Peeta as the adrenaline and wild emotions coursing through him at the moment made it hard to focus on anything other than, _oh god, oh god I'm going to be in the Hunger Games._ Their might have been some three fingered salute everyone gave Peeta, but otherwise he didn't quite recall. How was he supposed to retain things to memory when it felt like he was moving through a dream? This is not where he thought the day was headed when it began.

There was one thing he did recall though. Riece came to visit him after Peeta's family left—an awkward affair where no one spoke and his mother looked anywhere but in Peeta’s eyes, which was fine by Peeta. Riece said he didn't have much, but that he wanted to offer him something, a token to remember him by and to be his encouragement during the games.

"All of District 12 will be rooting for you, Peeta." He then handed Peeta a small pin of a mockingjay, one given to him by his deceased mother. Peeta was more than touched at the sentiment. He pocketed the gold pin for safekeeping.

The gentle rocking of the train as it bolted ever closer to the Capitol temporarily soothed Peeta's nerves. After saying goodbye to his family he had one of the most amazing dinners of his life. There were so many choices he didn't know where to start. And then Katniss and he had tried to talk to Haymitch, but it was a futile endeavor as he was even more drunk than at the reaping, having access to endless liquor on the train. They figured they would try again tomorrow when he might be slightly more sober.

So now he was in bed, trying to grasp that elusive sleep, hoping it would bring an end to a long and draining day. The knot in his chest felt looser. Peeta only drifted in and out of a light slumber with images from past Hunger Games haunting his mind. One in particular vividly re-enacted in his minds eye where two male tributes fought at a lakes edge, wading deeper and deeper as the bigger of the two pushed the smaller one relentlessly backwards and further into the water. Their only weapons were whittled tree branches. The younger one was now too deep to stand. He had to tread water, which was his downfall as the older male lunged, pushing him underwater and then stabbing him brutally and repeatedly. His blood stained the water all around as he thrashed blindly, chunks of torn flesh floated to the surface as the water churned crimson. Peeta pulled from his dream in a gasp, not knowing how to swim he feared the most that the arena would be an aquatic one.

That morning at breakfast, while drinking his new favorite, hot chocolate, they made some encouraging headway. They secured a promise from Haymitch that he would not get drunk until the games were over. Although he didn't promise to stop drinking, but it was the best they could hope for in their situation.

Peeta and Katniss were then swept into what felt like a whirlwind once arriving at the opulent and flamboyant Capitol, full of the tallest buildings he had ever seen, glimmering like reflective pools of water in the sunlight. It was something not even he could have dreamt in his wildest imagination. The eccentric and freakish looking citizens strained to get a glimpse of the volunteer from District 12 stuck with him the most as he was ushered to the Remake Center where he experienced the picking, prodding, striping, cleaning and overall repackaging of his body, from hairs to scars, skin tone to fingernail length.

His three prep team members fussed in their silly Capitol accents over how valiant he was for volunteering; it seemed to be all everyone was talking about. He never realized how much people were invested in this, like it really was a show and not children slaughtering each other as punishment. It only sickened him more.

"So _brave_!"

"Just amazing, I've never seen that from your district!"

"Did you know the boy? Oh you must have!"

Finally his stylist arrived, a lovely looking mocha skinned woman, whose style, while still reflective of what is popular in the Capitol, was much more restrained and boarded on beautiful. Her coco brown hair fell in large tightly coiled curls around her face with gold inlays, gold eye-liner, a subtle gold lipstick and a sharp, angular shimmering brown dress that fit her well, but did not overbear like many of the Capitol fashions.

"Hello Peeta, I'm Portia. You are one brave boy or I should say man. Although I'm sure you've heard that quite enough from your _charming_ prep team."

He almost laughed. Maybe she got it.

"Thank you... So what are you going to do with me?" He asked hesitantly.

Portia smiled brightly and then explained to him his costume. _And okay, maybe she was just as crazy as all those Capitol people_. _Fire?_ She had decided with Cinna that this year the District 12 tributes deserved something more than the routine costume often slapped on the lowliest of districts.

So now he and Katniss stood on their chariot, waiting for the opening ceremony to begin. He took a quick survey of the other tributes, but didn't have much time to take a close look as Portia and Cinna started to light them on fire.

"It tickles. That's not what I expected." Katniss looked at him and cracked a slight smile.

He smiled back, she really was beautiful, it was too bad he could never have feelings for her; he was more likely to feel something for her best friend Gale than her, which had been known to happen.

"Yeah, I was ready to rip both our capes off at the first flicker of heat," Peeta said.

Suddenly the music began and the chariots started to file out into the street. This was it, their introduction to the world. When their chariot finally appeared the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. It was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. They loved them and maybe Peeta? No, no they definitely did.

"PEETA! PEETA! PEETA!" The crowd chanted as they passed, everyone craning his or her neck to catch a look at them, at him—the volunteer from 12.

It was a weird feeling. That hope and spark of defiance returned, bubbling up in his chest uninhibited. He gave his most charming smile and waved back, sending a wink or kiss here and there, only to increase the frenzy.

He looked up at the screens lining the streets and finally saw how striking they looked with massive tendrils of flames flowing off their skintight black jumpsuits and capes. It was a sight to behold and surely not to be forgotten. He sure would never forget it, nothing like that had ever been done before, and especially not for his district. He briefly wondered what everyone at home thought of them, of him, as they watched the lavish festivity.

Flowers of all types were showered on their chariot as they made the journey to the city circle, where President Snow would address them. Once all the chariots arrived and were in position Snow approached the podium and began his speech. The same shit as usual, that it was a great honor, pride to the districts, blah, blah, blah. So Peeta didn't really pay attention. This wasn't done for their benefit anyways.

"I have a feeling we just made a lot of enemies." Katniss nudged Peeta. She then signaled with her eyes towards the various other tributes, all shooting dirty looks and glares their way.

"We definitely stole the spotlight," Peeta grinned, feeling combative.

He finally took the time to survey the other tributes. He noticed a couple of young tributes, one from 11, a young black girl, very sweet and innocent looking dressed in colorful fruits. He had to look away quickly knowing all too well her likely fate in the Games and wondering if her sweet face would remind Katniss of her younger sister, Primrose.

The girl’s male tribute was a large and strong looking dark skinned male, with no emotion discernable on his face. He was like stone and probably hit like one. Further down he saw an even larger male from 4 with one very noticeable emotion on his jagged face, hate. Maybe mixed with a tinge of eagerness, definitely a career and a fearsome looking one at that.

But the tribute that really caught Peeta’s eye was the male career from 2. He looked like a Greek God—and not just because his costume was styled that way—he held his head high with such self-assurance it battered down one's defenses. His powerful looking biceps rippled with the slightest movement and his deep hazel eyes only sucked Peeta in further, which were now looking directly at Peeta.

He quickly looked away, trying to stop the burning in his cheeks and fluttering in his stomach. It was a disturbing feeling he did not often get. While most tributes still shot them dirty looks, the Greek God looked intrigued. Peeta would have to learn this man's name. He didn't often find guys that got quite that reaction from him and he needed to know more. Because really, he only had a limited amount of time left and he was not going to waste a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Training Day 1

Effie about lost her head when she greeted them after the ceremony to take them to their living quarters. She was excited beyond belief to have a pair of tributes that people were actually talking about, most likely a first for her. Everything seemed like it could somehow be twisted into being about her if she had any say in it.

"They loved you, absolutely _loved_ you! I'm sure sponsors will be beating down the door! What a show. What. A. Show!" Effie said to no one in particular as she lead them to the elevator. She now wore a lavender wig with matching feather eyelashes.

Haymitch also looked pleased, but barked at Effie regardless. "Take a pill. It was only the opening ceremony. They still gotta impress the Gamemakers and make it through the interview."

"Thanks for the optimism, Haymitch." Katniss snapped.

"My, my Haymitch, one would like to think you could let me bask in the glory while I finally have it." Effie waved off his cynicism with a polished hand.

And there it was, all about her. Katniss and Peeta really didn't matter, just the possibility of prestige. It was almost funny how obsessive the Capitol citizens where about frivolous things like fame, being loved, fashion and following the most current trend. Every year Effie sported a new hair color and outrageous style. This year the fluffy cotton candy pink at the reaping, may have been her most muted choice yet.

The living quarters on the 12th floor were grand in every sense of the word. The decor was something he had never seen in his life, the nicest thing they had in his house back in Twelve was the old TV, which was basically required since everyone had to watch the games. But here a massive golden gilded mirror greeted them off the elevator and the dinning room was set with sparkling expensive silverware and china, while weird technological devices with uses foreign to Peeta were found scattered throughout the penthouse. One had the ability to change the image on the windows while another could remold the bed to any shape and comfort he pleased. At least he was going to be spoiled before he had to fight twenty-three other kids to the death. He could never really forget that part. No matter how nice they made things. They were still basically prisoners here, to be shown off and pranced about before slaughter.

The following morning training was to begin and Peeta was anxious to see Cato's face again. He couldn't help it; he had watched the show after dinner just to learn the tributes name. That stare, those hazel eyes and blonde hair, he was transfixed. And the fact that he was one of the only tributes not to shoot daggers at him with his eyes only encouraged his growing feelings. Which was absolutely ludicrous. He would soon have to fight this guy in the arena. But then again he did make a decision when he volunteered. He would no longer hide his feelings, no longer be a doormat, he would stand up and be noticed. This was his last chance to do what he wanted before it all ended in blood.

"Now before you go into training, would you like to be trained separately? In case you have a specific skill you would rather keep hidden from the other?" Haymitch asked them the following morning at the elevator before they headed to the basement to begin training.

Peeta and Katniss looked at each other with a shrug.

"It doesn't matter to me. So together." Katniss answered for them. He didn't particularly care either.

"Great, well tell me some things you two can do."

They both took turns grossly underestimating themselves, until Katniss supplied for Peeta how strong he was.

“He can lift a 100lb bag of flower like it’s nothing. I’ve seen him do it.”

Peeta was taken aback to learn she had paid enough attention to him like that over the years to know and also kind of peeved. Why was she telling him this, like it was some great feat?

"What are you doing Katniss?" He hissed.

"I'm trying to help you, Haymitch needs to know us, and you can't undersell yourself. Not when it's life or death."

"How is being able to lift flour sacks going to help anyone?" Peeta demanded.

"Because knowing that I will suggest you try your hand at the hand-to-hand combat station,” interrupted Haymitch, “to really give yourself a skill to channel that power through."

"Well I'm not going to win. I'll never get close enough to fight someone if they have a sword or knives or a _bow and arrow_." He said the last part looking directly at Katniss.

"Please there isn't even a guarantee there will be a bow in the arena. If someone jumps me I wont even stand a chance. And people are probably already lining up to help you in the games." She huffed, crossing her arms and staring back indignant.

Peeta was surprised she had thought this much about him; she should spend more time thinking of her own strategy, to get back to her sister.

"I'm sure they'll be fighting to sponsor you too."

Katniss looked to Haymitch with an exasperated sigh, "He has no idea the kind of effect he can have on people."

Peeta hadn't even noticed they'd gotten in the elevator and reached the basement already. But what Katniss had said didn't make any sense. The only effect he had ever had on people was getting his mom to hit him or his brothers to bully him, while his dad and any others kept their distance. Choosing rather to ignore him than interact with him. But maybe the new Peeta had some kind of different effect? The Capitol seemed to approve.

Haymitch gave them some directions on where to focus and then let them go. After Atala—the training instructor—gave them directions on how training would proceed, Katniss headed over to the rope station while Peeta decided to first try out the survival station. He definitely didn't have much of a clue like Katniss did when it came to wilderness survival.

The trainer at this station asked him what he would like to learn first, but before he could respond—

"How about starting some fires? The Boy on Fire should know a thing or two about that."

Oh yeah, Caesar Flickerman was particularly proud of dubbing him with that name, ‘The Boy on Fire’. When Peeta turned to see who was taunting him he choked on his stinging retort. It was Cato. Cato had come over and decided to join him at the survival station. All the other Careers were at various weapon-training stations to show off their skills like Clove nailing a dummy in the heart and head with knives and squealing in predatory delight or Marvel's expert spear thrown through the neck of a dummy.

"Clever, but my name's Peeta."

Cato stared him down for a second then nodded.

"I know. Well? How about you try to start that fire?" He knew Peeta's name too, that was more than Peeta could handle at the moment.

He looked to the trainer, unsure how to proceed. He thought it had something to do with rubbing two sticks together. But he bet it wasn’t that easy.

And he was right; there were many methods one could use to start a fire. It took four tries and a little help from the trainer before he got a spark. Cato chuckled to himself the whole time. It infuriated Peeta; he didn't like being laughed at, especially by him _._

"How about you show me something you can do. Then maybe I'll show you something I'm good at."

Cato raised an eyebrow at the challenge. The intrigued look returned to those enrapturing brown eyes.

"Okay. How about weightlifting? Over here."

Once at the station Cato proceeded to impress Peeta with the sheer amount of weights he could lift. His biceps bulged with exertion, a slight sheen of sweat covering his forehead, while his eyes narrowed in steep concentration. He was certainly stronger than Peeta, lifting over 200lbs at one point. Hand-to-hand fighting may not be that useful against someone like him in the arena or Thresh from Eleven and Stasson from Four—the one with the jagged face. They could all probably sweep the floor with him. Regardless, he would need to train at the combat station soon if he wanted a chance.

"Impressive. But you're a career. That's to be expected." Cato didn't seem to like being referred to as a career at all, a deep frown marring his face. _Interesting._ "I guess now it's my turn. This way."

Cato followed silently to Peeta's dismay. He expected more smart remarks or displays of intimidation like the other careers were engaged in all around. Stasson was at the sword fighting station now, pushing a smaller kid out of the way to show off his skill. Stasson proceeded to battle the station assistant deftly, swiftly ending it by knocking the man unconscious with the pommel of his sword.

But Cato didn't seem to care to follow that pattern. He may have given off an air of a bloodthirsty brute in his reaping and the opening ceremony, but now he seemed different. It surprised Peeta and only helped to further rouse his interest in the guy.

"Camouflage?" Cato asked critically.

"If you can't see me, you can't kill me." Peeta shrugged, anything to stay alive a little longer in the games.

Peeta then proceeded to use the available items to camouflage his arm like bark. When he held his arm against the reference sample Cato couldn't tell where the bark ended and Peeta's arm began..

"Impressive. How are you so good at that?" He asked with genuine curiosity in his deep voice.

Peeta tried to stop the blush that threatened to warm his cheeks at the praise.

"Um, I decorate cakes."

"Why? Some type of hobby?" Cato’s brows knitted together.

"Oh, ha, no, because my family runs the bakery in district 12. It's the one thing I really like to do at the shop, design our cakes."

"So you're a bakers son? Not exactly the typical example of a volunteer for these games."

"Well I like to break the mold. Ordinary is boring," Peeta smirked.

Cato appeared to want to ask Peeta more, but a gong signaled it was now time for lunch and Clove flew over to interrupt when she jumped his back.

"Come on, lets get some food! I'm fucking starved."

Cato grimaced at the fact that she was on top of him, but nonetheless left Peeta and headed to the training centers cafeteria with her atop him. She looked back at Peeta with a glare, leaving him frustrated. He wanted to learn more about this guy who was really quite different from the other careers, but it looked like he was going to have some competition. _I guess they don't call it a game for nothing._


	3. Chapter 3

Training Day 1- Pt 2

Peeta carried his tray filled to the brim with ridiculously gourmet food to sit at the table Katniss was at and already busy devouring her lunch. After he took his seat Katniss looked up at him, mid bite of her favorite plum and lamb stew.

"So what's Cato up to?" She asked with a scrutinizing eye.

"Huh?" Peeta didn't seem to get what she was asking. Or implying.

"I mean he was getting pretty friendly with you earlier. I've just never known of a career to associate with tributes from District 12." She said it matter of fact, but Peeta could tell she had more thoughts on Cato's action than she was letting on.

"Well there's always a first for everything. And I wouldn't worry too much, Katniss. He doesn't bite." Peeta tried to play it light, hoping to assuage what ever her mind was thinking. He then attempted to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Anyways, what did you learn in training this morning?"

"I learned to set some pretty great snares, Gale was always better at that than me, but…" She went silent, her eyes a little pained. Anytime they mentioned something from home was painful, but more so for her. She had a life in 12, with a family depending on her and a best friend, who probably was in love with her. Although neither of them may know it yet.

Peeta left her in thought while he started eating his food. He finished it in record time having not realized how hungry he was. He figured he better eat while he can, because once he was dropped in that arena food would be scarce. It was the Hunger Games after all.

So he got up to go back to the food carts to have a second round. After grabbing various warm rolls and some sautéed vegetables, he went to reach for the serving utensil of his favorite—chicken and oranges in a creamy red sauce—when it was snatched from him. Peeta looked up to see whom the hand belonged to and was surprised and more than slightly terrified to find it belonged to Stasson. He towered over Peeta, probably around 6'3 or 6'4. He had beetle like black eyes and dark brown hair that fell atop his head in distinct disarray. His face was jaggedly constructed as if he had been in too many fights growing up and they permanently altered the landscaping of his face. The remake center probably only had time to rid him of his surface scars.

"I think I'll have the last of this." He said in a deep and aggressive voice as he scraped up the dregs of the chicken dish, looking pointedly at Peeta like he was daring him to say something.

"Okay… I'll just get something else."

Peeta decided best to keep the peace and brush his antagonistic behavior aside. But Stasson blocked his path. He didn't like being ignored.

"So what keeps that flame burning, boy on _fire_?" He said the last word with a sneer and pushed a blunt finger into Peeta's chest with the final word.

Great, he really wanted to make an enemy with Peeta. And intimidate him.

"I can't help what others decide to call me, but careful with that finger. The trainers might misconstrue your actions." Peeta lifted his eyebrows as he stared back.

Stasson cracked his knuckles with his reply, "Let them. These games are mine to win. Your just some opening act that’ll fizzle out by the time these games start."

Peeta guessed others must have been watching their interaction; he caught Cato watching closely from his peripherals and then Katniss was also there jamming a finger into Stasson's broad and overly built chest.

"You think these games are yours to win, _career_ , but this year I think you'll find the odds might not be in your favor."

"Katpiss, right?” Stasson sneered again, “Are you his girl on fire or some ridiculous crap like that? I can't wait for these games to start so I can hear the cannon fire as I rip the life from you both. These games were made for guys like me." He flexed his muscles for showy effect, the thick ropey veins popping into stark contrast against the smooth surface of his arms.

"Sweet. Overconfidence.” Katniss glared back. “Means you've got pretty far to fall. Lets see how you do in the endurance obstacle course. You and me, first to the finish? A little taste of the games now, let’s see if they really were _made_ for you."

Peeta was unsure what she was trying to do. Egging him on like that was probably the worst idea, but it was too late now. Stasson gave her a quick once over and then took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

As they head back to the gymnasium Peeta noticed that the Gamemakers had finally made their way to the training center, up on a second floor outcropping to watch over all of their progress. They indulged in fruity drinks and cocktails, fine delicacies and laughed like spoiled children because it all really was just a game to them. The lives of all the real kids before them meant nothing. They just wanted to put on the best show possible for the Capitol.

Peeta trailed behind Katniss like her shadow as she marched over to the endurance station ahead of Stasson, who was busy gloating about how he was about to take down the bitch from Twelve.

"Katniss, are you sure you want to have a competition with him? This is not going to end well."

"That career needs someone to show him he's not the king he thinks he is," She replied, ignoring his warning and flipping her signature bread behind her back.

Soon all of the careers and Peeta were waiting by the obstacle endurance course as Katniss and Stasson stood at the starting line. It ringed the outer edges of the large gymnasium in a circle, weaving through various obstacles before ending at the starting line. Peeta didn't even need to look to his right when Cato took the spot next to him, his whole body could feel it. He felt like a live wire, harsh electrical currents coursed through his body and crackled uninhibited. He had to restrain himself from staring.

When the training assistant said, “Go”, the careers burst into loud cheers for Stasson and jeers for Katniss. Uphelia, the female tribute from Four—with a sharp nose and short auburn hair—was particularly vicious in her words.

"Wipe the floor with that bitch Stasson! You're better than that shit from the coal district!"

All the careers but Cato shouted as Katniss and Stasson raced down the course, moving through the tires neck in neck and climbing under a large net over bramble and rough gravel. Then they had to pull a large rock with a rope tied around their waist down the course where Katniss lost her slight lead. Peeta dug his heels into the gym mats, urging her to pull faster.

Peeta noticed that the Gamemakers were watching this display now too and he felt maybe he had missed an opportunity. This display was sure to get attention for whoever won.

Then suddenly he froze as Cato's arm brushed against his. It was probably an accident, but it was the first time they had made skin-to-skin contact and it was electric. He felt a pulse run throughout his body.

Katniss got held up when it came to scaling the groove-less wall. Stasson's height was definitely to his advantage there as he jumped and latched a hand on the ledge, pulling up and over. She was falling behind and there was little of the course left. _Come on Katniss!_ Peeta urged silently.

She was close to catching up to Stasson on the monkey bars, lithely swinging her way across. Peeta was impressed by the endurance Katniss was showing, her years of hunting in the woods outside their District really proving an asset to her here. Stasson was on the final obstacle, the rope net they had to climb up and over. But here Stasson stumbled as his dense weight caused the rope net to twist about, stalling him. Then Katniss was there in a flash, scaling up and over the net, her lighter weight benefiting her. As she crossed the finish line Stasson dropped to the ground with a look of fury in his black eyes as Peeta let out a loud "WOOP!" and ran to greet the victorious Katniss.

Uphelia ran to her fellow tribute and tried to soothe his bruised ego, but he just pushed her flat on her ass and stormed off to another training station. Completely ignoring the fact that he had lost to the bitch from the coal-mining district. Peeta was pretty damn proud of his fellow tribute.

“You were amazing!” Peeta congratulated. Katniss just rolled her shoulders, preening only the slightest.

Now that the show was over, the careers all wondered back to different stations. Continuing their training. Peeta decided he would go to the knot tying station, after what he heard Katniss had learned there.

It was a really useful station, but he was not really able to grasp each snare or complicated knot completely, especially when thoughts of Cato kept swimming before his mind. When he finally got a snare that could capture small prey like rabbits down pat he decided he would initiate a conversation this time with the Greek God. Otherwise his mind would continue to plague him and he would never learn another useful tactic.

Cato was at the combat station, practicing his sword skills. He looked fierce and surprisingly sophisticated wielding that weaponry. While Stasson chopped and lunged with brutal power, Cato had more refined skills that had to come with years of training. Peeta took a moment to admire him as he swung the blade around his body and delivered a decapitating blow to a practice dummy. Peeta winced thinking of the poor tributes that might face him in the arena.

When he went to approach the station Clove stepped into his path, blocking him with her arms crossed and a snide look on her small face.

"Can I help you?" Peeta asked exasperatedly, he really didn't like her. Well most of the careers for that matter. But especially after seeing her all over Cato.

"Actually yes, you can back the fuck off." She got in his face, having to stand on her toes, but the look in her brown eyes was no less fearsome.

"Excuse me?" Peeta expressed in disbelief.

"You heard me, flamer. I know your game. It's my mine too. But he's from my district and I will have any and all fun with him before it comes time for him to die. You hear me?"

Did she really just call him flamer? Okay now Peeta was pissed, but impressed at her perceptiveness, he hadn't thought he was that obvious.

"Little girl, you don't know my game. But when I do play it, you'll have already lost."

And with that Peeta stalked off, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of having the last word. Unfortunately that meant he didn't get to talk to Cato again and soon enough the day was over.

He started to head towards the elevator to take him and Katniss back up to their 12th floor penthouse for dinner. But he couldn't help himself and turned back to look at Cato with a yearning he had felt almost all his life. It was a pressure on his heart, heavy and constricting. He wondered what it would be like for once to have the feelings returned. To have the weight lifted and know what it was like to feel loved. To not have to watch all the normal people around him fall in and out of countless relationships while he went unnoticed. To not have another unrequited crush on a straight guy. _That's just too much to hope for though,_ he thought, _I'm in the Hunger Games now, not much time left to even get my first kiss._

He sighed in exasperation on the elevator. Katniss shot him a quizzical look, but didn't say anything. _I'm going to die the sad gay boy from district 12, having never known a man's touch or love._ It made him utterly despondent, the pressure on his heart coiling ever tighter.


	4. Chapter 4

Training Night 1

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other from across the table with wide and exasperated eyes. It felt as if they were under interrogation at dinner. Effie and Haymitch both seemed to have made a truce in their often snarky war of words and decided to create a joint task force solely focused on learning everything about their tributes’ day and whipping them into shape with their collective stubborn will and advice.

They shared with Haymitch the trouble Stasson would most likely present in the games and how Katniss whooped his ass in the obstacle course. Haymitch seemed proud if anything.

"That's great! You two already would have had an enemy in him from the opening ceremony, especially with all the inane chatter about you, Peeta, so showing to him you're not gonna be an easy kill can only work to your advantage.” Haymitch paused to wave off the avox that offered to pour him some wine. “He will be more cautious around you in the Arena, giving you time to plan, instead of being ambushed."

"But he's a giant! I'm not sure anyone is going to be able to take him down." Peeta griped.

"Pft,” Scoffed Haymitch. “Giants may have a physical advantage, but can be outsmarted any day of the week. They think with brawn not brain, they lack the foresight for strategy."

"There are always some hotheaded careers. It's to be expected every year, just keep your baby blues on him. He's sure to do the same!" Effie quipped while fixing a stray curl on her wig.

After dinner Peeta went to shower. He truly enjoyed the luxury of hot water and all the different faucets and perfumed soaps to play with and sample. He had never experienced such a soothing feeling with the steady water pressure, all the steam and the crisp, perfectly clean feeling he got afterwards. He thought of home while he was in there, remembering how his brothers always took their time with their baths, so that the water in their wooden washing tub was cold by the time he got to it and murky with their dirt. His mother would never warm more water for him. He felt anger begin to bubble under the surface just thinking about the indignities forced upon him by his family.

After getting dressed in a clean black shirt, one of many provided for them—it was their district color—and comfy cotton pajama pants, he decided to take the night to wonder out of his room and check things out. On his way into the living room he caught Katniss staring out a window over looking the Capitol. It was a spectacular view from the 12th floor. In the distance one could see the lights reflecting off the massive white mansion that housed President Snow nestled between the sharp skyscrapers that pierced at the night sky. It looked like a siren in the distance, beautiful and enticing, but sure to cause death and destruction for all those who lay sight on it.

"Hey."

Katniss' body tensed, probably having thought she was alone. She turned to look at Peeta; her arms wrapped around her legs, looking very childlike.

"Hey."

"Why did you intervene today?" Peeta asked with sudden curiosity.

She gazed at him a moment then turned back to the window.

"With Stasson?" She asked, her voice withdrawn and tired.

"Was there anyone else I don't know of?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"I guess not…" She laughed a little, but it lacked a genuine effort.

Peeta remained behind her, knowing he should not join. They both needed some time alone each night, to process things, grieve, whatever came to them.

"So…?" He prodded her a little.

"Oh, sorry… I just thought you might need some help."

Peeta didn't buy it.

"I'm perfectly capable, Katniss."

She decided to turn and face him as she stood up. Her voice was soft but unwavering when she spoke.

"I guess figured anything I can do to help take some of the eyes off you.” She paused, a longsuffering look planted on her beautiful face. “You may not have realized it yet, but everyone is watching you. You may not think it, but you're the one to beat. Even if they don't think you can win, like Stasson, they want to be the one to kill you."

There Katniss went surprising Peeta again. He never expected her to care so much about his well being in these games. He wished he could return the favor somehow. But he guessed she was right, he already had enough unwanted attention from the other tributes. But he still felt there was more he could do. Maybe he could try to protect her in the games to the best of his ability. He already knew he could never kill her. He wasn't sure he could kill anyone in the games anyways; it wasn’t something in his nature. It was something he wasn’t willing to give the Capitol.

"Katniss, you don't need to get yourself in harms way for me. I volunteered, I asked for this to happen to me, you didn't."

She nodded. "I know. Have a good night Peeta."

Then she headed back to her room and Peeta was alone again, more heavy thoughts weighing down his already overwrought brain like an added layer of gravity. He needed fresh air. He couldn't escape this prison they had sentenced all the tributes too until the Hunger Games began, but he hoped there was a rooftop he could at least get some fresh air on.

Upon entering the dome shaped room on the roof, Peeta headed to the door to the outside and was awestruck by the almost 360 degree view of the city displayed before him. All the electricity in the buildings sparkled around him like so many diamonds. District 12 never looked like this, only getting power for a few hours a day, if they were lucky. He walked to the railing at the edge, wondering what sort of device the Gamemakers had concocted to keep tributes from jumping to their death. The loud wind buffeted him slightly.

He continued to make his way around the dome to its opposing side and was surprised, and a little delighted, to find a garden with potted flowers of different varieties, all creamy shades of white, and lovely trees that were surprisingly in bloom, with beautiful white flowers blossoming all over. Wind chimes hung from the branches and tinkled persistently in the wind.

He weaved his way over to sit on the sole bench in the garden, under one of the wind chimed trees—its branches hung wide and low with thick patches of flower blossoms that permeated the air with a vanilla scent. He took deep breaths, taking his time to enjoy all the smells of the outdoors. It smelled different from home, but that was to be expected in such a large city. The scent of the flowers and trees slightly tinged by city smells wafted up with the wind. It was still nice to be outside. He had never been confined indoors for as long as he was here; it was unnatural to be indoors so long.

Peeta almost jumped a foot in the air when another warm body sat beside him. He had thought he was alone, but it turned out someone was already up here in the garden. Peeta must have startled them into hiding until they knew who it was. Peeta's breathing exercise was now ruined for it was none other than Cato up here beside him. This guy just kept doing that today, appearing by his side unexpectedly. He wondered what he was doing on the roof. Cato obviously had more on his mind than anticipation for the bloodbath that would soon be their lives.

They sat in silence for some time as they listened to the chimes and wind that rustled through the leaves of the trees while looking out at the city. Every now and then petals would fall loose in the wind and flutter by like the wings of a butterfly. It was actually a nice moment of solitude with Cato. They seemed to have reached some understanding between the garden and silence. Peeta's right shoulder was close enough to feel the heat that emanated from Cato, warmth that beckoned him to lean against. But he restrained himself, not wanting to break the moment with some stupid urge to touch Cato.

But to Peeta's surprise Cato broke the silence first.

"Why did you volunteer?"

Peeta had not expected that. He was not sure what they were going to talk about, if at all, but he certainly would not have guessed he would be asked such an intimate question. _Maybe we are having an intimate moment,_ Peeta hoped.

"I'm not exactly sure…" Peeta paused to think. It was kind of the truth. He didn't go to the reaping of the mindset that he would volunteer for the Hunger Games. But he knew well enough once he did why he had done it.

Cato turned to look at him now with a calm and surprisingly boyish face.

"It's okay, with all this wind and noise from the chimes were safe."

Peeta hadn't even thought of that, but of course the Capitol would have surveillance everywhere.

"I guess something in me just, it just changed that morning. I was ready for something more… something different, for things to change. I couldn't really stand for any of it anymore. I don’t— Am I even making sense?" Peeta let out a haggard laugh as he looked up into Cato's amber eyes.

"Kind of. I'm sure it was a complicated feeling when you did and there was probably no one reason." Cato replied, his eyes crinkling in thought.

Cato was dead right about that. But now he wanted to know something.

"And why did you? If you don't mind me saying, but I saw your reaping, the way you lunged forward, so ready to be part of this slaughter and yet you don't seem like that guy here."

Peeta was afraid he had maybe overstepped some bounds, but it was Cato who started with the personal questions first. Cato only raised one eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by his insights as he sighed.

"Unlike you, I went to the reaping that morning prepared to volunteer. It's what _Careers_ do." There he went with that word again. "It's what I _had_ to do."

Peeta was not sure what he meant by that. Had too?

He seemed a little tenser than before, like memories of the reaping were not as exciting for him as it looked on the television.

"You probably know that in some Districts like 1, 2, and 4 there are schools some kids go to their whole lives to prepare for the games. It's not seen like it is for the rest of you, a death sentence, but as a way to achieve honor, glory, riches." He threw his hands about for emphasis, his eyes darkening with the memory. "And for those that don't train, they know they are safe from being reaped as a career will with out fail volunteer for the spot."

"So you've been training since you were young for this?" Peeta asked.

"Yeah and this is the last year I was eligible, so I had to get the male tribute spot. It was expected of me back home, my dad would have had nothing less of me. And my mom, well she didn't care for anything other than herself and money. So volunteering for this was probably the first time she actually noticed me, because now I have a chance of making her richer—“ He stopped abruptly as if choked off. Then he looked at me closely as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

_So he had family problems too, maybe we have more in common than first thought._ Peeta reached out to touch Cato's shoulder as he was still so tense. He relaxed a little. Maybe he’d feel a little better if Peeta shared some too.

"My family life was pretty shitty too. My mother was—is—a horrible woman, controlling and demanding. No one could live up to her expectations, especially me. My father is just a meek, weak-minded man that she tramples all over. And don't get me started on my two older brothers. They love to take any and all chances they get to make life miserable for me."

"That's bullshit. Brothers should protect their younger siblings." Cato was quite forceful on this point. Peeta wondered if he had any siblings.

But then Cato decided to steer the topic elsewhere.

"Hey, watch this."

Cato stood up from the bench and Peeta was a little disappointed they were no longer so close. He had not realized until then how the pressure in his chest was alleviated just by his proximity to Cato, but he did want to see what Cato was going to do. Peeta was confused when he saw him tear off a branch from a nearby tree.

"What're you doing?" Peeta asked skeptically.

"You'll see." He said with a sly smile that sent trills up Peeta's spine.

Cato then swung the branch with a powerful pitch out and over the ledge of the roof. And maybe it was a little anti-climatic, but then suddenly he heard a sharp static zap and the branch was flung back over the ledge straight at Cato. He caught it with a small "Oof." The branch smoked lightly in his hands.

"What was that?" Peeta stood and asked incredulously as he walked near him. He took the branch from Cato's hand and it was cool to the touch, betraying the smoldering look of it.

"Clever Gamemakers always worrying about our safety. They wouldn't want us to accidently fall off the roof or anything you know."

Peeta laughed, "Of course. Of course."

Peeta wondered what Cato was thinking of all this. How friendly they were being to each other. Katniss was right that not many tributes from a more favored district like 2 ever associated with the likes of 12 during the games.

And he had to ask.

"You know most people would think it weird that a tribute from 2 was hanging with a guy from 12. I don't think we've ever associated like that."

Cato turned to look at him, still smiling from his little show. It was a playful smile that quirked the edges of his lips upward. It left Peeta a little breathless.

"Fuck them, I don't give a shit what those people think. They should care what _I_ think." He said as he flexed a bicep with a laugh.

"You are a pretty intimidating sight with those large guns," Peeta mocked.

"Do they intimidate you?" He said with a wiggle of the eyebrows.

Where they flirting? A flutter in his stomach that could be misconstrued as nausea flared in his stomach. Peeta had never done this before so he had no clue. But it seemed more than just playful banter, especially with that wiggle of the eyebrows. Cato certainly knew how to work it.

"Nope." Peeta replied with a touch of defiance.

Cato stalked in closer, a dark look coming over his face, the playful smile slipping from view. He moved in until he was towering over Peeta and then still he kept coming. Peeta wasn't sure what was happening, so he took a few steps back as the branch fell from his hand. Cato smirked and continued pressing in on Peeta, like he was some prey he was stalking.

_Maybe that touch of defiance was the wrong approach,_ Peeta worried as he came flush against the trunk of the large tree next to the bench.

"How about now?" Cato asked in a deep and husky voice as his large arms came up on either side of Peeta, trapping him between the tree and Cato's massive frame. His stomach twisted in knots, like a snake coiling in on itself.

"Not a bit. You don't scare me Cato. I'm the boy on _fire_." Peeta held strong in his boldness, although he responded in a slightly breathless tone from the sheer intoxicating proximity of Cato. Peeta smiled widely, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

And then suddenly Peeta was actually out of breath for Cato had closed the distance between them, gripping with both hands Peeta's shoulders as he pulled him up for a deep and probing kiss. A large gust of wind blew across the garden and shook loose petals from the blooming flowers on the trees around them. It was like magic as the soft white petals swirled and fell gently around them as Cato embraced him passionately, pulling Peeta's tongue into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

Peeta had no clue how long the kiss lasted for as his brain was currently fried from the onslaught of sensations: the electricity of Cato's lips on his, the feeling of their tongues dancing against one another, the vibration of the wind chimes throughout the garden, their noses grazing, teeth clacking from inexperience and the vanilla scent of the flower petals flowing about them.

His first kiss and it could not have been more perfect.

Cato eventually pulled back with reluctance and Peeta could breathe again. He thought maybe he had forgotten how. All he ever needed were Cato's lips on his. He looked up at Cato with a furious blush on his cheeks.

"O-okay, maybe now I'm a little intimidated."

Cato laughed and it caused his eyes to crinkle and bring that boyish look back to his face. He had made Cato laugh and it was a deep and sexy laugh that Peeta really wanted to hear more often.

"Well I'm not sure that's what I was going for then. Sorry if I startled you... or took advantage." He withdrew his hands from Peeta's shoulders and pulled a petal from Peeta's hair, where he began to rub it between his fingers.

Peeta tentatively reached out to Cato, gripping his forearm, looking him directly in the eyes before speaking softly.

"You do not need to be sorry for that. I should be thanking you if anything. And honestly, you can take advantage anytime you want." He grinned foolishly at Cato.

Cato laughed lightly again, but paused looking thoughtful and slightly perplexed.

"We should probably go back inside Peeta, get some rest. Only a few more days until the Games start." He said.

Once in the plush down bed in his room Peeta replayed the night over and over again in his head. The kiss flashed of moist lips and stubble grazing against one another through his minds eye. Sharing their family pain. The wind chimes making the perfect soundtrack to their embrace and breathy noises. The flirting and anxious feeling in his stomach. The swirling of the petals and their aroma. The _kiss_. It was turning him on as the kiss continued to play over in his mind on a never-ending loop. He would have to take care of the throbbing in his pants tonight. He never in a million years thought he would be kissed like that and most of all not here at the Hunger Games.

_Fuck, the Hunger Games_. That one inescapable thing. The thing that would damn them all and force twenty-four teenagers to kill each other. Peeta and Cato might have to fight each other. Only one of them could make it. _This is not going well,_ Peeta thought fearfully, _I already don't want Katniss to get killed and now I don't know if I can stand by and let Cato fall either._ What did he volunteer for?

Peeta rolled around the overly large bed in tumultuous reflection. But he was also anxious for morning to come sooner rather than later. He needed to see Cato again. To make sure the whole thing wasn't some wild fantasy of his, to maybe kiss him again, but for now he settled for some spit and his hand to help bring a little release and shut-eye.


	5. Chapter 5

Training Day 2

Peeta awoke that morning from his restless sleep resigning to the fact that he should probably just get used to it. There would be no good nights of sleep in the arena. His mind wondered what type of environment the Gamemakers would throw their way this year while he dressed in his training uniform.

Then he gave himself a once over in the mirror.

" _He_ kissed you."

Peeta just had to remember that; Cato initiated it. He was not unrequited in his feelings this time. Cato returned them with his first real kiss. Peeta's stomach threatened to float away just thinking about it. He might have to tie it down.

At breakfast Haymitch was having a hard time keeping up the new alliance with Effie, everything she said seemed to grate on his nerves until he eventually started volleying her with snide retorts. Peeta thought it might have been because he had a hangover. The faint smell of wine hung in the air around Haymitch. But their bickering spared Katniss and Peeta from having to interact with them, putting them in a better mood when headed to the training center.

Once they entered the basement Peeta saw that the Gamemakers were there early today and most seemed to be watching him as he pinned on his cloth number 12. It unnerved him to have those critical eyes on him. They were completely in control of his life and everyone else's here. He felt a juvenile urge to stick his tongue out at them.

"I'm going to try a little target practice with that bow and arrow. Just to get a feel for it." Katniss waved bye to Peeta.

"Don't show how good you are. Miss the mark a few times,” Peeta warned before she stalked off.

She nodded thanks and wondered off to her station.

He scanned the room looking for Cato and found him quickly. He was with a few of the other Careers, Marvel and Glimmer. Stasson was again showing off, using the assistant at the combat station as a punching bag while Uphelia waited for her turn and cooed over Stasson's skills.

Peeta wondered if he should go over to Cato. Cato did approach him yesterday, so it might not be that weird. But instead he tried to get his attention across the room to judge if it was an appropriate situation to enter. Unfortunately, it seemed like Cato was completely blind to the fact that Peeta was directly in his line of sight across the gym. Cato stubbornly continued to warm up with the two other Careers before they all took part in the endurance course, never once meeting his eyes.

And then, like a punch in the gut, Clove ran over and jumped on his back again. Except this time he smiled, gripped her thigh and swung her around to his chest where her legs locked around his torso as he spun her in circles. Peeta thought he saw Cato glance at him from the corner of his eye while lifting Clove around him, but then he was laughing and smirking like some hot shot used to getting the pretty girls attention and relishing in it.

Then they started a team endurance course, Marvel with Glimmer, Cato with Clove. Peeta couldn't stand to watch how close the Tributes from 2 worked together through the course. The loud flirtatious laughs from Cloves mouth caused him to grind his teeth as he stomped over to the survival station to learn about plants. He figured he might learn a thing or two about what was safe to eat and what could kill. But it was hard to concentrate, especially when he happened to look over at the endurance course and see that Cato and Clove had been trying to scale the wall and were now in a compromising heap below it. _What game is he trying to play?_ Peeta wondered with frustration.

The only things Peeta could say he successfully learned were what nightlock looked like—although he already had a vague idea—and a few types of medicinal plants. Mostly what was good for a common cold when stewed in hot water or a salve for scrapes and cuts to stop infection when ground to a powder and mixed into a sticky paste. Which, granted, was good to know. He now wouldn't kill himself by accidentally eating nightlock thinking it was a cranberry and he could preemptively fight an infection if cut. But he wanted to _cut_ someone else right now. He had never felt this before, the burning in the pit of his stomach and the heady flush it brought to his skin. Jealousy he supposed. It ate away at his insides like acid leaving a foul taste that burped up the back of his throat.

When he was done with the plant station a girl from 8 with gorgeous gold hair stepped up from behind him to take the test on the touch screen device. She flew through it at amazing speed. She matched the appropriate images with their names and identified their uses in half the time it took Peeta. _Great_ , he noted, _now I look like an idiot to the Gamemakers._ But when he looked up at them he noticed most were now busy laughing amongst themselves and drinking a pastel pink drink from long slender tubes.

Peeta saw Glimmer, now done with the endurance course, was competing with Uphelia for Stasson's attention. Glimmer probably had the advantage with her pure sex appeal, the luscious blonde hair, big breasts and curvaceous body. Uphelia had more of her work cut out for her, but was still pretty with her auburn hair, green eyes and taller stature than most of the girls here. Stasson did not seem interested though, only continuing on to the next station on his training schedule. Although Peeta thought he saw a smirk. He was playing them against each other and quite enjoying the attention. _Smug bastard, he probably expected nothing less from most girls_. They were just toys to him.

As Peeta was working on creating his own shelter from the tent that would most likely be provided in some of the packs at the Cornucopia, he heard Cato yelling.

"What the fuck did you do with my sword?"

Peeta looked up from tying off a rope to the stake he just put in the ground to watch, shocked at Cato's outburst. He was pushing some adolescent tribute from 10. It was undeniably inappropriate contact; tributes were not allowed to fight no matter what.

"I didn't take you stupid sword!" The boy shouted back.

"Don't fucking lie, I saw you looking at it! What did you do with it?" Cato raged, veins pulsing hard along his muscular neck.

He started to tussle with the kid and Peeta was stunned, he was acting just like the guy who volunteered at the District 2 reaping, eagerly vicious. It was stupid; these were just training weapons anyways. It was no one's sword to steal. Peeta wondered what had changed him from the guy he was last night as some assistants broke the fight up and sent them to the cafeteria, where they were to wait until after lunch ended before they could rejoin training.

Peeta noticed both Katniss and Thresh were laughing about the whole situation. He followed their line of sight up to the monkey bars a little over from where Cato and the other teen had been. Resting above the bars was little Rue with a large grin on her angelic face as she held Cato's sword in her hands. _Clever girl,_ he thought.

Then Peeta couldn’t help but start to worry Cato's change in behavior was because of him. Did he set off this regression in Cato’s behavior? It was all that made sense, but he did not want to be responsible for setting the monstrous Cato on everyone in the Games. And he definitely did not want Cato to regret what had happened between them. He thought that might be worse than the murderous Cato.

Peeta finished constructing his tent around the time lunch was ready. So he left the survival station and headed to the cafeteria. He was going to find Cato and get an explanation. He deserved that much.

Katniss fell beside him as he entered the cafeteria.

"Think they'll have that lamb stew?" She smirked.

"You're obsessed," He chuckled.

Cato was over at a table eating alone in the far back of the room. So Peeta filled up a tray full of food with Katniss, who was not disappointed by the lamb and plum stew, and then told her he would be right back.

He sat his tray down next to Cato, who looked up at him with a scowl.

"So what's up, Cato?"

Cato didn't reply, instead just scooting down the table a little further from Peeta as he continued eating.

Peeta wasn't going to beat around the bush.

"Is this about last night?"

Cato's head shot up and fixated on him with an angry stare. The amber color of his eyes a sudden harsh brown.

"I don't have time for this." Then he got up, leaving the last of his food and tray at the table as he headed out of the cafeteria.

But Peeta wasn't going to relent that easily, he only had so much time left before it all ended and he wasn’t going to hold back his feelings. So he ran after Cato and caught him in the hallway to the training gym.

"Cato! You better make time for this. I'm not going to just ignore what happened and I sure as hell wont let you.”

Cato turned on Peeta rapidly and jabbed a finger repeatedly into his chest.

"I do not have time for you, _twelve_. You're just a distraction, inconsequential. I came here to win and that is exactly what I'll do. And no one or thing, kisses on rooftops included, will get—in—my—way!” He pressed into Peeta's sternum in conjunction with the emphasis he put on each word. His face was contorted in undeniable contempt.

It was like a slap in the face, the sting lingered with him long after Cato stormed back into the training center. Peeta stood in the hallway bewildered and boarding on a breakdown. He took a few deep breaths before heading back in to finish his lunch, letting each exhale dispel with it the hopeless feeling Cato had left inside him. The constricting pressure around Peeta’s heart had returned with a vengeance, threatening to strangle the life from him. Nothing could ever be good in his life. He really was the boy on fire and everything he touched burned.


	6. Chapter 6

Training Day 2- Pt. 2

"Oof."

"Ouch."

"Arg."

Peeta was channeling all his feelings into the fight. Now at the hand-to-hand combat station, he was wrestling with one of the assistants on a mat and he was going to get this guy to submit.

After a struggle Peeta managed to push with all the strength in his thighs backwards and throw the guy off him and land on top of the man with a thud and gasp for breath. He then quickly swung around, Peeta's powerful legs held the man between him as he proceeded to pin the guys arms down. Ten seconds later he was the winner. He felt slightly better.

"Great job 12," the training assistant praised, "Now you should try to learn some combat moves. Lets start with how to disarm an opponent with a short range weapon."

Peeta looked over towards the Gamemakers to see if any had been watching and to his surprise they were. A few even looked to be discussing his match in animation. They must have enjoyed his display of eagerness.

The training assistant first made Peeta attack him with a rubber knife, so he could demonstrate how to deflect the blow and break his own grip on the knife when he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his own back, forcing Peeta to drop the knife.

Then he taught Peeta how to break out of a headlock from behind, how to throw the most powerful punches while protecting one's fist, where to land hits for the most pain and max results, and how to hold his body during a fight to minimize the target. It was all extremely useful and therapeutic. He was almost able to take his mind completely off Cato.

But then his day got worse. Stasson decided to show up and torment Peeta along with Uphelia, who was probably just joining in on lobbing insults at him to get in Stasson's good graces, if he had any.

"Look at the flamer try to land a punch. Pathetic." Stasson laughed with a booming voice, trying to carry his insults throughout the large gym.

"You should have stayed in 12, that little kid would have gotten farther in the games than you will!" Uphelia screeched gleefully.

Peeta tried to ignore them as he cooled off from the exertion and walked to get a drink of water from the fountain.

"Careful flamer, wouldn't want that water to douse your fire before the game even starts," Stasson cracked at Peeta.

_Fuck this._ Peeta turned swiftly, kicking a chair out of his way as he stalked straight up to Stasson and shoving him hard with both hands.

"What _is_ your problem with me? Aside from the fact that you envy my properly shaped head. Was it all the beatings you’ve taken to the face over the years? Or are you just a natural asshole?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Stasson demanded. He clenched his fists and puffed out his chest.

"Don't let him talk to you like that Stasson! Your head is perfectly shaped!" Uphelia supplied standing slightly behind him and eating up the macho display before her.

"Oh did all the punches to the head leave you not only malformed, but hard of hearing? I shudder to think what you looked like before the remake center." Peeta raged on his toes, trying to get in Stasson's face as best he could, who looked ready to pummel Peeta and boy did he ever wish he would take a swing at him. He was in just the mood for a fight.

Just as Stasson raised his fist to land a sure to be powerful punch Cato was behind him, putting him in a headlock and pulling him back.

"Its not worth it, man. Save it for the arena."

Stasson struggled as Cato pulled him back, but his headlock was too tight to escape from.

"Fuck, fuck, fine. Alright. Screw it."

As Cato pulled Stasson back away from Peeta, he looked at him with an apologetic appearance. _Okay what the hell,_ Peeta thought, _he tells me I'm just a distraction and now he’s saving me from Stasson? What's the point?_ He just continued to glare Stasson and Cato down as they moved away.

"That was awesome and really stupid Peeta."

He hadn't even realized Katniss was right next to him, ready to have intervened again too he assumed.

"Yeah, I know, but I wasn't in a particularly great mood to begin with. Then ugly started harassing me and I thought, you showed him up, now it was time I told him off."

"Want to try some target practice? It probably would feel good to pierce something." Katniss offered knowingly.

So they headed over to the weapon station. Katniss figured she would try to teach Peeta some basics of the bow and arrow, but Peeta had already decided on a spear, testing the heft of it in his hands. He tried a few false practice throws, closely studying the target and its bull's-eye, while feeling the weight of the spear in his arm. Then he was thrusting his arm forward, the spear flying from his grasp and connecting with the target. Nowhere near the bull's-eye, but it still stuck in the target, which was much better than he expected. A wave of self-satisfaction crashed over him. Katniss even seemed impressed.

"Nice. I'm sure for my first time throwing a spear I wouldn't have even reached the target."

As they continued more target practice, Katniss had moved on to throwing knives, trying to learn a new skill like Peeta. When Peeta had gone to throw another spear he saw Cato watching him and missed the target by a foot in distraction. _Who is the distraction now, Cato?_ Peeta thought snidely.

After that Peeta noticed throughout the rest of the afternoon of training Cato was actually paying attention to him again. Not like earlier this morning where he barely looked at him once. He wondered what he was up to now. Maybe he was working another angle on Peeta, the intriguing volunteer from 12, wanting to know how to eliminate the newest threat. But then Peeta shook that thought from his head; the Cato from last night didn't seem capable of that, even with what he was seeing today.

When training was finished for the day Peeta was starving. He had exhausted a lot of energy throughout the afternoon in the combat station and weapons training. He was also ready to head back to his room and have a good mope. This day had started out so hopeful and was now ending crappier than he could have expected.

As they all headed out he felt a hand fall on his shoulder, pulling him back. It was Cato. Great, just what he needed. To end the night on a sour note with Cato, a sharp contrast to how the previous night with Cato had ended.

Peeta glared at him with vigor and crossed his arms. Then he unleashed.

"What do you want now Cato? Come to remind me what a distraction I am? Because if you weren't aware I stayed away from you all day. It was you who couldn't keep your eyes off me. You think you can just play with my emotions like this and—"

Peeta's rant was cut startling short as Cato's lips unexpectedly silenced him. He felt like he was on a roller coaster today with how quickly Cato could bring him from emotional high to low and back again.

But things were now grand again, because those soft lips were now moving against his. Cato's slight stubble tickled him. Just as it was about to get intense, Cato broke away.

He timidly grinned at Peeta as he glanced up and down the hallway.

"Sorry. I—uh—didn’t know how else to shut you up."

Peeta cleared his throat. "W-well, you succeeded at that. But I'm still very confused."

"I know, I'm so sorry." Cato looked downcast at his feet in shame. He took Peeta's hand in his. "But I can explain. Please, will you meet me at our spot, after dinner?"

Peeta looked into Cato's emotive hazel eyes and knew he could not deny him this. And he was particularly thrilled to learn they had a 'spot'.

"Okay. I'll be there."

Peeta found Katniss waiting for him once the large polished steel doors of his elevator opened on their 12th floor penthouse.

"You didn't have to wait for me for dinner."

"Obviously. But I wanted to talk to you in private. Cato could not stop looking at you this afternoon. His interest in you worries me." She replied with a flip of the wrist.

Peeta didn't understand why she was so interested in his interaction with Cato.

"There is nothing weird with a tribute from 12 getting to know a Career."

"But there is Peeta! They always team up together for the beginning part of the games, slaughtering everyone in their path until they must turn on each other. This is probably the first year someone from 12 has a shot of winning and wouldn't you know it, a Career is taking interest in you." She sounded exasperated and chewed on her bottom lip, obviously uncomfortable about the whole situation.

Peeta did not like any of those implications, that she wasn't the one with the chance of winning, that Cato only had interest in him because he wanted to eliminate Peeta as a potential victor, or that Cato was even like the rest of those Careers.

"I don't think that is what he is doing at all." Peeta countered impetuously.

"I'm trying to help you here. Would you just listen to me?"

"Katniss I'm gay." He blurted out. Then his stomach dropped out from beneath him at the sudden admission. He hadn’t meant to say that and had no idea where it came from.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Peeta was flustered by what he had just revealed and her response. He twisted the hem of his shirt nervously.

Katniss nodded. "Sure. That's fine. But don't let Cato's good looks blind you to what he may be plotting."

"Katniss, it's nothing more sinister than a simple crush." Peeta explained and then hoped he hadn't done the wrong thing by revealing what his feelings were towards Cato. He didn't know what was going on between them, but he wanted the chance to find out.

"Well I hope your right and I'm just being overly cautious. But when you volunteered you became something for our district. You mean something to people and I just don't want to see that ruined."

Then Katniss headed to the dinning room for dinner with Peeta left to contemplate what she had just said. _I became something for their district?_ He wasn't sure he liked the responsibility she was assigning to his shoulders. It made his skin itch. Yes he came here for many reasons and one of them maybe was he truly did want things to change. But he wasn't sure he was ready or capable of being something more for others. If that is what she even meant. He felt like some poor rat in a maze, trying to find the proper path to the prize except the prize at the end was actually just his untimely death. There was no winning this puzzle.

He just needed to see Cato. He needed to be reassured he hadn't been played again, that the man from last night really did exist.


	7. Chapter 7

Training Night 2

Peeta finished showering and was now in the process of figuring out what he should wear. Expecting to see Cato on the roof tonight gave him pause when he went to get dressed; last night he hadn't really put any thought into what he was wearing. Cato saw him in pajama pants for heaven’s sake! So tonight he picked out a blue v-neck that made his eyes really pop and a pair of dark wash jeans. The Capitol provided wardrobe was actually pretty great. He had no idea how they had all this clothing that fit him perfectly in here before he got to the room, but he sure was grateful for it tonight.

He left his blonde locks in a slightly mussed style across his forehead and then went to his door and pressed his ear against it, trying to listen for any sign that someone might be out and about. He really didn't want to run into Katniss. He was not ready to face her again. He was still stunned he had just come out to her like that. He had never once done that. He had long stopped being ashamed about being gay, but it wasn't something you really talked about in 12 and he had never really had anyone to come out to anyways. Now he figured he would die in the closet.

_But I wanted to come out to her. I wanted her to know that part of me,_ he realized. _She is the first friend I've ever truly had. What am I going to do if I lose her in the games?_ He couldn’t think of that, not now. He was not ready to start losing people, which was a weird thought since before volunteering he had nothing to lose.

He headed out of his room and was relieved to find his path to the elevator free and clear. He quickly called the elevator to his level and then rode it the one stop to the roof where he found Cato already waiting for him at their bench under the blossoming trees. They must have been muttations, because they were in full bloom again, even after losing most their petals to the wind last night. It never ceased to amaze him the lengths the Capitol would go for the most ridiculous things. Was it so important to have constant blooming trees?

Cato was also wearing jeans along with a pastel yellow shirt that enhanced the golden tan of his skin and made his blonde hair vibrant in the city lights. It clung to the contours of his well-muscled body and Peeta tried not to stare.

"Hey Cato," He said cautiously.

Cato stood from the bench with a smile on his face and reached out to touch Peeta’s face with the back of his hand. Almost as if to make sure Peeta was real. He wasn’t complaining though as his skin lit up with heat of the touch.

"I just had to—“ He cut off, “Sit, Peeta." He motioned to the bench.

He took a seat and was followed by Cato who looked into his eyes.

"Wow, you have the most amazing eyes, has anyone ever told you that?"

Peeta blushed, _thanks blue v-neck._ "Not really, but thank you. You're eyes are nice too." Peeta felt awkward exchanging compliments; it wasn’t something he was used to at all. He wondered if Cato had done this before with another guy.

"Well, um,” Cato cracked a smile and then cleared his throat.  “I owe you an apology and explanation so…" He waved his hands about, looking for a place to begin. "…I'll start with my father."

This was not where Peeta thought he was going to start, but it was Cato's show and he was happy to listen.

"He volunteered for the 53rd hunger games when he was 18 and as you can probably guess, he was the victor."

Peeta definitely was not expecting that. He watched Cato as he continued his story and could tell he was not used to this, sharing his personal life with others. Something they both had in common. The way he wrung his hands nervously as he spoke or picked at his jeans betrayed the confidence he emitted from his voice.

"There's been pressure on me since I was born to be the best, the strongest and most brutal, to lack emotion and be a killing machine. I was expected to volunteer for the games since I was born and my father would have nothing less than a victor for his son. He felt like I would be continuing some great family tradition. It was our legacy. Like making it out alive of the slaughter of 23 other teens and kids was the most honorable thing someone could do."

Peeta hesitantly reached for Cato's hand and held it in his, stroking his thumb across Cato's knuckles softly when he didn't withdraw from the contact.

"I can't imagine."

"My mother never cared, like I told you. She was too busy enjoying the lifestyle and vanity my father's riches brought her. The stature of being married to a victor." Cato shrugged with indifference over the memory of his mother.

"And so that is how I came to volunteer. Because my father had instilled in me since I was little that this is what the Ryves did. We won the Hunger Games. We were fearless killers. But… but deep down I knew I was never like those other kids I trained with. Ones like Clove that relished in the pain they caused and gleefully cheered at the particularly brutal kills during the annual games. Yes I learned to push those emotions aside and kill if I had to, but I wasn't sure it was worth it and I sure as fuck didn’t wait anxiously for the games to come around so I could volunteer like others. But I knew I had to, to try and make my father finally proud of me…"

He stopped and pulled Peeta's hand up in his to kiss gently. It was such a sweet gesture and it only pulled Peeta in deeper, wherever deeper might have been leading. It was a troubling thought.

"And then I got here, I saw you volunteer for that little boy on the train ride to the Capitol and I felt ashamed of myself. I thought that is why someone should volunteer. It was such a selfless act and Careers like me have never done something selfless like that in our lives, probably never would. That's why I didn't like you lumping me in with the Careers. You are such a unique and amazing person and to have you think for one second I'm like those Careers, it disgusted me."

He paused as he looked back into Peeta's empathetic blue eyes, "And then you were up here last night. And I just felt closer to you than I had been to anyone in my entire life. It scared and exhilarated me."

Peeta smiled so broadly it hurt.

"It was the same thing for me Cato. And I knew from the moment I saw you that you were different from the other Careers. I'm sorry to have ever compared you to them."

Cato cracked a smile back at Peeta, "Don't be. You made me reevaluate everything. I'm still not even sure what's happening, why I'm so comfortable being this open with you, but it's so much better than keeping everything bottled up…"

After a pause he continued his story, "After last night I kind of freaked out because I realized I had already failed my father. I knew I couldn't kill you. And if I couldn't kill you I couldn't win. So today I tried to put back on that ruthless persona. But the mask wouldn’t fit anymore and you called me on my shit, like no one’s ever done. There's something about you that just draws me in. You’re magnetic Peeta. Since I first laid eyes on you at the opening ceremony, you took my breath away…"

He seemed to be living in the memory of that moment as his eyes fluttered closed for a second.

"And seeing Stasson pick a fight with you like that infuriated me. He had no right to say any of those things, but I had no right to want to defend you. After that I realized I was an idiot and I couldn't waste anymore time trying to be something I'm not. If I'm going to die in here, I want to die me. Something I've never tried to be before."

He was saying exactly what Peeta felt. He wanted to try being his true self so desperately; he'd never had the chance before. But when facing down death one starts to re-examine their priorities in life.

Peeta was silent for a minute, and then he leaned in and kissed Cato. It was the first time he had initiated a kiss and he felt after Cato's confessions, he deserved something more than words. He needed to show Cato what that meant to him.

However, this kiss was different from the other ones. It became heated fast as their tongues battled for dominance. With less wind tonight he could hear the slurping noises they made as the kiss deepened, turning wet. Soon Peeta was climbing over Cato and straddling his lap, holding onto Cato's face tightly as if this kiss was his sustenance. Cato groaned into his mouth as his hands smoothed down Peeta's back and then rested on his ass, where he groped. Peeta moaned this time and then he ran his fingers through Cato's hair and pulled lightly. He'd never felt this before and it only took seconds for Cato to make him come completely undone.

He didn't want it to ever end, but knew it was time to stop, for now. So he put his hand on Cato's shoulders and pushed him back. Cato whimpered and it was such a cute sound Peeta bent down and pecked another quick kiss on him, and maybe one more for good measure, before he finally dismounted from Cato's lap.

"That was fucking hot." Cato gasped.

Peeta chuckled in agreement.

"Definitely. I thought you deserved it, for being so honest with me. It means a lot that you could open up. I've never had someone share such personal things with me before... I've never had someone I could share my feelings back to..." Peeta paused as he looked into Cato's eyes for strength. He needed it to share these things, otherwise he didn’t know if he had it in him.

"Like how I fear my mom who hits me for things like burnt bread or getting home from school late. Or how I hate my brothers who bully me at school out of our parent's sight. The one friend I ever made when I was 13—he was my first crush—was driven away by my brothers. They played a vicious prank on the two of us that involved trapping us in the coal mines overnight."

Peeta's mind wondered back to that awful night. He remembered it being so dark and cold, the terror he felt as only a young boy. He feared he was going to suffocate. How his friend cried out in panic for an hour for his mom. The way Peeta struggled to find an exit from the mines that his brothers had lured them to on a dare of bravery, only to seal the exit, howling in laughter. They wouldn't be found until the mines opened the next morning. But the worst part was when his only friend, the boy he unwillingly developed a crush on, hit him. He just started swinging fists in the dark until he connected with Peeta's face. He hated Peeta. He hated his family. He never talked to Peeta again. Peeta never had a meaningful connection with a person at school again.

"That is no way a family should behave toward a loved one! Even with all the problems I have with my family, there's never been violence in it. And I could never dream of hurting my little sister. She's the most precious thing in the world to me." Cato growled in anger as Peeta tried to clamp back down on the emotions bubbling inside him.

"It's fine, it was over three years ago anyways. And I'm sure you're a great big brother. I just wanted you to know the truth about my family. I've accepted it."

They sat on the bench just holding hands for a bit until Peeta wondered aloud:

"What's it like to be gay in your district?"

"It's not really a big deal.” Cato shrugged, as he answered, “I actually had a gay teacher at the Academy. I wouldn't say we're as sexually fluid as Capitol citizens are known for, but it's accepted. Only fringes of our district really have a problem with it. But then again there are so many other things wrong with this world, I don't think sexuality rank that high on anyone's list of problems."

Peeta sighed forlornly. "I wish it was like that for 12. I mean I'm sure some people wouldn't care. But it's not something that is talked about, so no one would probably understand it. I think anything the Capitol can use to punish my district they do. It is expected of us to have children so we can contribute workers for the mine. So having a life, as a gay person, is not even really possible. You'd be a pariah for not having kids, not even for your sexuality. And then who knows what the Capitol would do if they felt like you weren't contributing."

"I've really never heard of so many injustices.” Cato let out a fierce growl again. “It's completely unfair that the Career districts have so much favor by the Capitol."

"How else would they keep us in line?” Peeta shrugged. “Some need to get a little more than others. Well besides the obvious Hunger Games and destruction of District 13 of course."

“Yes and that." Cato sighed as he leaned over and bumped Peeta's shoulder. "Why don't you tell me something good about your district."

Peeta didn't have to think much for one. He may have had his problems back home, but now that he was so far from it he had more perspective than ever on his situation and could see how much his problems stemmed from a bad family life. Maybe he really had held himself back from connecting with people at school, so used to being trampled on at home he feared giving people the chance to know him and do the same. He wouldn't be afraid to make connections here, not with such a short amount of time left, even if it made things harder.

"Springtime in our district. Just a few weeks after the last snow has melted away, there is a field right outside the fence that is supposed to keep us in. But it's never electrified. In the spring this field fills with the most wonderful wildflowers of all different colors." Peeta paused for a moment as he reflected on the many times he had gone to that field in the spring and found a wonderful escape.

"Deep reds and violets, yellows, and vivid purples. I'd sneak out under the fence and bring a notebook where I would sketch the blooming field. Usually sitting just in the shade of the forest, so no peacekeepers could easily spot me. It was one of the only places of real beauty in our district. Inside the fence most things are dead and soot covered from the mines."

Cato put his arm around Peeta and pulled him in close. Peeta found his face nuzzled in between the crook of Cato's arm. He smelled delicious, sweet and fresh, yet manly, like after a mid-afternoon's summer rain with a hint of muskiness. It was a pheromone tailor made for Peeta's enjoyment.

Cato leaned down to whisper in his ear, " I'd love to see some of your drawings one day." He then placed a kiss atop Peeta's head, inhaling Peeta's own scent. "You're completely different from anyone I've ever met. I really don’t know what to do."

It was all so wonderful and perfect, just like the night before. Peeta never wanted it to end. He was so afraid that their separation and the morning to come would only bring new troubles. To be honest it most likely would. Tomorrow was when the Gamemakers would grade them in their private evaluations. It was the last day of training. Then a day to get prepared for their interviews and finally, the following morning the games would start. His stomach somersaulted in trepidation and threatened to spill forth his dinner.

Pushing down the feeling Peeta had one last question on his mind to voice. He repositioned his face so he wouldn't be talking in to the side of Cato's pectoral and asked.

"What about Clove? She seems to have a thing for you."

Cato laughed boisterously.

"She doesn't have a _thing_ for me at all. She just likes being in control. She doesn't want anyone else to have me. I'm her district partner. She probably would like to fuck for the fun of it, but all she really wants is to win like everyone else. I was just indulging her today, as part of my show. Trying to regain my own footing as badass after you came along toppled over everything I thought I knew." He smiled down at me fondly like he was enjoying his own inside joke.

"I guess I really don't know the effect I have on people." Peeta was maybe starting to realize it was more than he thought. Peeta’s mind wondered to places of hope and change.

Cato pulled Peeta in tight.

"You have no idea, Peeta."

It was not until around one am that he was in his bed waiting for sleep to take him. They had stayed in that garden for quite a while longer and just listened to each other's breath, enjoying the presence of the other, their scent, stroking an arm or curling a finger through one's hair.

Now Peeta was really starting to worry. _What have I gotten into?_ He thought of Cato's familial pressure to be the strongest and best killing machine, how he would never have his father's respect unless he was victor of the games. And then he turned to the memory of Prim, crying as her sister and protector was taken away from her at the reaping. Another family member lost to her. How her slightly absent mother would probably fall back in on herself like after their father died, if Katniss didn't make it home. Could he even sit by and watch either of them die now?

And then there was Peeta, the boy on fire. The radical volunteer from the outlying District 12, who was wildly popular here in the Capitol and possibly something more at home. _What is fair? What is right or wrong anymore? Maybe I don't have to live... If I can do anything to make a change, maybe it's to not play the games and to play my own. Be the selfless man Cato saw in my Reaping,_ Peeta wondered.But how did he become that person again? He was just some fragile boy that made a decision on impulse.He realized maybe it didn't matter now how he became that guy again, he could do something for others and not become a selfish murdering monster like the Games so often made people out to be. But either way, in the end he would either loose his own life or watch as two of the most important people in his life were ripped from him violently.

The odds were not in his favor.


	8. Chapter 8

Training Day 3

"Big, big, big day! Time to wake up!" The following morning brought Effie banging on Peeta's door with extreme peppiness.

Haymitch had set time aside before breakfast to talk with each of them separately about strategy for the training evaluations with the Gamemakers this afternoon. Peeta told him how he had practiced with the spear and hand-to-hand. So he suggested Peeta continue doing just that and try to make a show of his skills both long range with the spear and close range with his combat skills to the Gamemakers.

"The judges love to see versatility in tributes." Then he waved Peeta off, keeping his eyes averted.

"Uh, okay. Thanks, Haymitch..." Peeta felt like Haymitch could barely tolerate his presence sometimes, which didn't really bother him since the feeling tended to be mutual. But he could at least work harder on an air of civility like Peeta strove for. Could it hurt that much to be friendly?

But then as Peeta got up to leave for some breakfast and send Katniss in before training Peeta could have sworn Haymitch almost wanted to wish him luck. He made a weird sound and Peeta looked to him, there was something he looked to want to get out, but it got caught in his throat and then all that came out was a burp. Peeta could have kicked himself, it was too much to expect of Haymitch to be anything more than revolting. As for Katniss, Peeta knew he would have her focus on her aptitude with the bow and arrow.

Once in the elevator and headed to their last day of training in the gym, Peeta decided to apologize, "I'm sorry for being difficult last night. I know you're just trying to help me… our district.” She turned an analytical eye on him, giving a once over.

"It's alright Peeta. And really, about the being gay thing, I don't think any less of you. I know you probably fear what people in our district might think. I can't imagine what it must be like. But hey, I've always moved to my own drumbeat and I value anyone else willing to strike out on their own like that."

"Thanks, Katniss.” He truly appreciated her saying that, “I want you to know, I'm not sure what my volunteering may mean to everyone yet, but I'm working it out. But what I do know is that I will do everything I can to protect you. You're my district partner... and my friend. I couldn't bare to let anything happen to you in the games now."

Katniss looked pained by Peeta's words, but didn't say anything. Instead she just put her hand in his and squeezed.

Inside the training center Peeta met up with Cato at the combat station again. Cato had enlisted Marvel's help to improve Peeta's spear throwing after he had told him it was going to be part of his strategy with the Gamemakers. He was surprised that Marvel had agreed to help him. But Marvel turned out not to be such an awful Career. Maybe a little over enthusiastic for the games, but nothing like Stasson.

He took his time to help Peeta learn how to hold the spear properly for the most accurate throw. After a while Peeta actually started to hit the bull's-eye with more and more success. If things kept going well like this he may just have a fighting chance at protecting Katniss in the games.

Clove meanwhile sulked in the background tossing her knives with violence, but thankfully not inserting herself in between Cato and Peeta.

Until Marvel asked with ambivalence, "So Peeta, are you going to be joining us Careers for the beginning of the games as we hunt everyone?"

Cato seemed surprised that Marvel had asked that, but didn't object to it. Peeta was not sure at all how he felt about that though. Joining the Careers? What would everyone at home think? He was sure the Capitol would love that twist, but it might damage his standing with those in District 12. Although they don't help him get sponsors. It was more than he was ready to think about at the moment. Either way, Clove was going to have none of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Flamer here? He's going to be dead before the bloodbath at the Cornucopia even starts." She then laughed shrilly and turned to Cato, "Come on, you can't possibly want him on our team!"

Except Cato just shook his head in disgust at her and said, "Clove, you are so juvenile."

Then he walked back over to practice with his sword as Peeta grinned widely, he did enjoy seeing Clove put in her place. _See that Clove? I won and you didn't even know it._

Soon it was lunchtime and Peeta was famished. He had spent the whole morning perfecting his spear throwing. His arm was getting slightly sore and he had large and attractive stains under his armpits. But he knew if he wanted to impress the Gamemakers, he needed something substantial to do in the private session other than wrestle with a dummy.

"Mind if I join you guys?" Cato surprised Peeta by approaching Katniss and him at their table for lunch.

Katniss raised one eyebrow, but motioned with her hand for him to take a seat.

He sat across from Peeta and dove right into his food as Peeta did the same. They all ate in silence, which may or may not have been very awkward. Peeta couldn't tell. But Katniss wasn't going to make it easy for Cato, especially when he asked, "So what are you going to do in your evaluations with the Gamemakers?"

"I dunno. Maybe show them my dance moves." She replied wryly and glared at him like he had grown a third eye. Peeta checked to be sure.

Cato seemed uncertain if she was joking. But Peeta laughed at Cato and so he breathed a sigh of relief, "Ha." That was definitely the worst question Cato could have asked. Katniss already distrusted him for trying to probably glean insights off them and then he had to ask about her strategy in the training evaluations.

Peeta almost choked on his food when he felt Cato's large foot brush against his right leg. It caused all the hairs on his leg to stand at attention and bring a slight blush to his face. He hated how easily Cato could bring this reaction out of him. Katniss tilted her head at him, wondering what had happened. He just waved her off as he tried to hide his face behind his large mug of hot chocolate. Except it was kind of hard to get it to dissipate as Cato continued to stroke his leg.

So he decided to give Cato a taste of his own medicine. _Two can play at this game, Cato._ He stuck out his own leg after slipping off his shoe and played with the foot Cato was using to rub his leg with. He then moved his foot up Cato's leg a little higher, sweeping over his kneecap and then down along his thigh. He heard Cato groan slightly and then try to cover it with a cough.

Peeta smiled to himself as he feigned disinterest, continuing to eat the last of his food. His foot crawling closer and closer to Cato's groin until his foot was flush against. He had to focus hard on deep breaths to keep from getting just as turned on as Cato, while he lightly brushed against the growing heat. Cato was gripping his fork so tightly it was starting to bend from the pressure his thumb was exerting against it. Katniss had turned back to her food by now, oblivious to the sultry game being played beneath their lunch table.

Just as suddenly as Peeta had started it, he stopped. Lunch was now over and they were being called to a waiting chamber off the opposing side of the gym where they would wait for their turn with the Gamemakers. Katniss and then Peeta stood, leaving their trays and Cato behind. He must have had to wait to cool down from Peeta's ministrations. Peeta winked at him as he left and he thought he might have heard Cato mutter, "Cock tease."

Unfortunately in the hallway he found his smile fading as none other than Stasson blocked his path. _Freakin' great._

"You're in my way."

Stasson grinned manically.  

"You better get used to it. The games start in less than two days now and you know what that means?"

"I'm sure you will enlighten me." Peeta rolled his eyes.

Stasson towered over him, his hot and foul breath beating down on Peeta like oppressing smog. There was no escaping his overwhelming presence.

"You're days are numbered 12. I promise I'll kill Katpiss quick, she won't know what hit her, probably.” He shrugged carelessly. “But you? Oh have I got plans for you. After all, this is a television show. All the Capitol wants is the best entertainment possible. And what would be more entertaining than slowly… torturously… snuffing out the boy on fire's flame?"

Peeta actually felt a shiver go up his spine as Stasson intoned his plan in his most malicious voice. He feared his days truly were numbered with Stasson so clearly focused on killing him. Like a feral cat stalking its prey with unwavering perseverance, supremely confident in its tracking and killing abilities. There seemed to be no way to throw Stasson off his scent. But Peeta leaned in towards Stasson, refusing to back down or let his fears show.

"I'd love to see you try." Peeta replied.

Then he pushed his way around Stasson and headed out into the gym to the other side where the waiting hall was. It was a long, narrow and cold hallway, with hard steel chairs lined up along either side where all the tributes sat and waited their turn. No one talked much as they waited. Cato nodded at Peeta and mouthed 'good luck,' as he entered the hall and took his seat further down, closer to the chamber door, next to a sulking Clove.

Ever so slowly, one by one, the tributes names were called and the hallway slowly whittled down from 24 tributes to 15 to 11 and so forth. Being the last district really sucked at times like this. Peeta would have preferred to have gone already and have this over with, instead of having to sit for hours on these uncomfortable chairs with nothing to do but think. He slowly swung from one end of the pendulum and to the other over his routine being perfect for him to it being too simple and unoriginal to get the judges attention. His nerves began to build like a slow pressure cooker.

Whatever he did in that room with the Gamemakers would have a huge impact on the attention he got from sponsors going into these games. Anything under 7 would destroy all the good fortune he had racked up so far as the boy on fire. He had to get at least a score of 8 to stay in the playing field. So many things could go wrong once in the arena and a sponsor could be the difference between life and death. The pageantry of all this really pissed Peeta off, because who were these people to force them to parade around in costumes and put on shows for some completely subjective score that will determine sponsors in a life and death situation?

"Katniss Everdeen."

She stood slowly from her seat, a little stiff from having been seated for so long. Peeta tried to give her a look that communicated everything he was feeling and wished to say, but couldn't. She lifted the corner of her lips and then marched into the room.

Now it was just Peeta, alone in the hallway. He got up and stretched a little, not wanting to be hindered by anything in the session. But he started to worry how the Gamemakers were going to be when he got in there: annoyed and ready for it to be over after having seen so many tributes? Impatient to go back to drinking and socializing? Or would they be watching him with an extra critical eye, judging him for the slightest misstep?

Just when it was all getting to be too much, alone out in this hallway, he heard the door open to the chamber and he had to hold down the feeling of bile rising in his throat. His palms grew clammy and slick with sweat. His stomach twisted in knots so intricate he feared he’d lose all digestive capabilities.

A smooth voice over the intercom read, "Peeta Mellark."


	9. Chapter 9

Training Night 3

Along with the usual of Effie and Haymitch, Portia and Cinna had come to join Katniss and Peeta for dinner that night in solidarity. In just under an hour Caesar Flickerman would be televising the scores of all the tributes from their private training evaluations with the Gamemakers.

Peeta’s stomach was still twisted up. He could barely touch his food, still completely distraught over what had happened in his private training session. He had probably destroyed any hope he had at getting a good score and just squandered his chances of getting sponsors. Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker, was sure to exact revenge. He was like some runaway train, unable to stop himself as he barreled over everything in his path with destructive force.

No one had really pressed him to describe what had happened in the session earlier today luckily. So he got away with just non-descriptive answers like, ‘Fine,’ or ‘Alright.’

But now Haymitch was pressing the subject as he sat his fork down, clearly finished with dinner and shifting his attention to Peeta. His eyes settled on Peeta, his crow’s feet deepening with the narrowing of his eyes.

 "So Peeta, what exactly went wrong this afternoon?"

Peeta grimaced; _he obviously must have noticed my fantastic mood._

"I'm sure it wasn't that big of a deal. They seemed really drunk by the time I got in there. One even asked if I was using a katana when I started shooting arrows." Katniss interjected, she shrugged with bafflement at the obliviousness of the Gamemakers.

"Well I kind of…" Peeta sighed resignedly. Then he just blurted out, "I threw my spear at the Gamemakers."

Effie screeched dramatically, dropping her fork with a harsh clatter on the table, as everyone else remained silent—that clichéd silence where one could hear a pin drop. It was almost comical, except for the fact that he had chucked a weapon at the Gamemakers.

"You what?" Portia leaned over to touch Peeta's shoulder delicately.

Peeta looked at Katniss, who seemed to be holding back a laugh, "Well, I speared right through the apple in a roast pigs mouth they brought out as they were all gathered around it and completely ignoring me. I tried to wrestle and show off some camouflage stuff, but..."

Soon he was feeling a little better as everyone laughed over the shocked reactions from the Gamemakers. Haymitch wished he could have been there to see it. Even Effie seemed to find the humor in it eventually as she righted her lopsided silver wig, but then profusely apologized to no one in particular, as if she had committed some type of treason.

By the time they were all seated around the television on the sofa Peeta was back to feeling like a scared child, waiting for his mother’s reprimand. Except this reprimand could determine life saving help in the arena, not just the size of the bruise he would develop the next day.

Caesar's charismatic face flashed onto the screen, with a spring green wig for tonight and green gems at the corners of each eye. His suit looked to be embracing some springtime theme with harsh green and yellow textiles growing up his suit. He started to explain how this afternoon, after the final morning of training all the tributes had individual sessions with the Gamemakers. He went on to explain the meaning of the scores.

Finally it was time for him to read the tributes scores. Peeta was afraid to watch, but Portia's hand on his shoulder was soothing. Like the presence of a gentle and caring mother he had never had. Of course the pain was prolonged just a little longer since District 12 would be last yet again.

And so Caesar read the scores, interjected with his own commentary:

“Glimmer- 9. Very respectable for such a stunning thing.”

“Marvel- 9. Nothing unexpected there with that career.”

“Oh this one seems like a fire cracker. A 10 for Clove.”

“Cato- 10, a career through and through.”

Peeta was at least heartened by this. Cato had gotten a great score. He would definitely have some sponsors in the arena.

“Uphelia- 8, surprising for a career, but not unrespectable.”

“A 10 for Stasson, yes I assumed this large brute would get nothing less.”

That was expected, but still bugged Peeta. He didn't want that psycho getting any attention from sponsors. He could only imagine the giant shit-eating grin on his face, arms crossed and bulging.

Eventually it was District 12's turn. Katniss received a score of… 9! He was so happy for her. Those bow and arrow skills must have really impressed them like he knew they would. If they had confidence in her, Peeta didn't feel so bad thinking he would probably not be around that long in the games to protect her.

Then Caesar Flickerman began to wrap up with the final score:

"And finally, last but not least, the boy on fire. Peeta Mellark from District 12 has received a score of…" He paused, as he looked his card over once more, "E-leven… And that is all for tonight folks. I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow night for the interviews with our esteemed tributes. Goodnight and may the odds be ever in our Tributes favor."

And then the screen was blank and Peeta sat stunned as if his whole body had been jolted by a taser. Everyone was cheering and congratulating him. Portia pulled him into a great big hug as Katniss smiled brightly at him. Effie was squealing in delight, clapping her hands obnoxiously loud as she kicked her feet before her like a child.

"How did I get that?" No one had received that score in the games as far back as he could remember.

"They must have liked your fiery temper. They want to put on a good show after all. We can definitely work with this. A 9 and 11." Haymitch supplied.

Once all the commotion over Katniss and Peeta's great scores died down he found himself lying in bed reflecting on the day. After everything that happened he had to say the worst part of his day turned out to be how little he got to be with Cato. He didn't know what was going to happen once they got in that arena, but he knew he didn't want to waste anytime until then. Unfortunately they never made plans to meet on the roof tonight. He wondered what Cato thought of his score.

Suddenly his mind shifted to what tomorrow would bring. He probably wouldn't even see Cato until they were at the stage where they would all give their interviews. He cringed, thinking of the interviews. He was not looking forward to that at all.

Before his mind could worry anymore over all the awful hoops the Capitol was making him jump through just to get to the killing he heard a soft rapping on the door.

As he got up to answer it he wondered who it could be now? Once he had the door opened he looked on in absolute disbelief.

"H-how did you get in here?"

Peeta had no idea that the tributes could so freely move about between their living quarters.

"Are you going to let me in first? Or are we just going to stand in the doorway?" Cato smiled endearingly.

Peeta jumped back, "Sorry! It's just I did not expect you to be on the other side of this door."

He laughed at Peeta's still stunned look, "Well as you said last night, some people get a little more leeway with the Capitol than others. Besides, aren't you glad to see me?"

Cato gave a sad moue and Peeta decided the best response was a kiss and then a, "Hell yes. I was just thinking how much tonight sucked because I didn't get to see you."

"Good. Same here. And I just had to see you after that score you got. Clove about did a spit take with her wine. It was hilarious, you should have seen it." Cato grinned broadly.

"I would have loved to have seen her face!" Peeta laughed joyfully.

Cato pulled Peeta to sit down beside him on the bed.

"So what did you do to get such a great score, babe?"

Peeta almost forgot to answer the question due to the fact that his mind was swirling from Cato calling him babe. Pet names, he had never used them before. And now Cato, the Greek God of a tribute from 2 was calling him babe.

"Oh, um, nothing special. Just chucked a spear at the Gamemakers afternoon snack."

Cato's jaw dropped open.

"No!" But when Peeta just continued to grin back and nod his head, Cato flung himself back and truly laughed. The same laugh Peeta had heard the other night and it was rapturous. But it was also a loud and booming laugh that Peeta had to throw a hand over to keep quiet.

"Sh! Someone will hear you, like our Avoxes!" Peeta whispered.

Cato laughed a little more as he pulled Peeta's hand off, "Oh really? And who are they going to tell?"

"Oh right… ha" Peeta chuckled as he blushed.

"I can't believe you did that! What I would have given to see it. I almost wish I had thought of something like that. And to think they rewarded you so boldly for such disobedience. You are on fire!" Cato looked Peeta up and down salaciously.

"Yeah, well maybe now with that score Stasson will think twice before trying something." Cato sat up with a worried look at the admission.

 "What do you mean? Did he try something again today?"

Peeta climbed up onto his bed so he could lean against the headboard while answering, "Oh just the same old shit. I'll kill Katniss and then slowly drag out your death for Capitol enjoyment. I don't think I'll be joining the Career's like Marvel asked, that's for sure." _Which was probably for the best,_ Peeta thought, but wouldn’t voice to Cato.

Cato got up and paced beside Peeta's bed.

"That stupid arrogant Career bastard."

Peeta extended both hands with a pout and reached for him.

"Don't be upset Cato potato. He didn't faze me, I've come to expect stuff like this."

Cato just stared at Peeta for a second before laughing loudly again.

"Potato?"

"Uh—“ Peeta blushed vigorously. “I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. It was a cute rhyme though, right?"

Cato pursed his lips for a second then proceeded to climb onto the bed. He stalked over towards Peeta on his hands and knees with a devilish smile on his face, "Alright, Peeta, you've officially out-cuted yourself."

Before Peeta knew it Cato had climbed over him and was now staring at him intensely, hazel on blue. Peeta had never been in a bed with another guy before, besides his siblings, which so didn’t count and that thought had to be banished from his head immediately. He was starting to get aroused just from the proximity and possibilities racing through his head, his blood rushing south at alarming speed.

"I did?" Peeta gulped.

"You did." Cato nodded, his nose brushing against Peeta's left cheek lightly.

Then just as suddenly as he had gotten into this compromising position, Cato had wrapped one arm under Peeta's body and slid him down so he was fully laid out on the bed. Cato pushed his legs in between Peeta's, nudging them outwards until Peeta proceeded to wrap his legs around Cato's muscular thighs just as Cato swooped down for a scalding kiss.

He devoured Peeta's mouth with the ferocity of a starving man and Peeta could not have been more pleased to be his replenishment. Peeta raked his hands down the contours of Cato's back, eliciting a moan from his partner. Things were getting heated.

Cato sunk his tongue into Peeta’s mouth fervently as he pushed himself atop Peeta. This time Peeta gasped into Cato’s mouth as their hardened members connected for the first time through their pants. Peeta had never felt something so amazing and arousing. He thrust against Cato tentatively, craving the feeling of his rock hard member sliding against Cato’s.

Cato moaned and pulled off Peeta’s lips only to latch them against his neck, where he suckled and licked his way up to Peeta’s left ear. Eliciting breathy moans and needy whimpers from Peeta as Cato completely undid him. He felt like he was turning to jelly under Cato’s exquisite attention. When he stuck his tongue in Peeta’s ear and swirled it about, only to bite down on his lobe lightly, Peeta groaned loudly.

“Uhh…”

Cato continued to thrust against Peeta’s cock as he pulled back, looked him in the eyes and husked out, “You’re so sexy.”

Peeta felt lightheaded and a distant tingling that was building in intensity as their thrusts became less rhythmic. Peeta’s hands slipped under the waistband of Cato’s pants to grip his firm and slightly fuzzy ass. Cato was pushing down on Peeta longer and harder as Peeta lunged back in for another mouth-watering kiss, noses and teeth mashing together in fury. His eyes sealed shut as he savored every feeling Cato was eliciting from him; until his whole body was wracked by the most intense orgasm he could remember having. His legs and hands forcefully pulled Cato’s cock atop him and held him their as his eyes squeezed shut tightly, his body feeling paralyzed, and he wailed, “CATO.”

It wasn’t even until he had regained all his sense a minute or two later that he realized Cato had come right along with him. He lay beside Peeta and panted from their exertion.

“Peeta, that was…” He trailed off hazily and rolled to the side of Peeta.

"Incredible." He supplied for Cato. He may have rendered Cato out of words, but Peeta could think of a hundred more to describe the moment they had just shared. His heart fluttered with the beat of an old song playing through his mind. One he hadn't thought of since a child and had only ever repeated once to receive a nasty beating from his mother. The first stanza lazily flowed through his thoughts.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

Peeta didn't know why that song came to him in that moment. Or why the imagery from the song called to him so forcefully. He imagined the hanging tree as beautiful and unassuming as the blossoming tree from their rooftop garden. No one would know the things that had occurred under its branches just by looking at them. A hanging, an escape, suicide, a call to revolution, new love forming; the songs messages all intertwined with Peeta's own life in a confusing muddle.

He turned onto his side to look at Cato; beads of sweat had collected around his sideburns. Peeta had never felt so intimately close to a person before. He wasn't sure what all these feelings were that currently coursed through his mind and body. But he knew he liked them and didn't want them to end.

"Thank you, Cato."

Cato repositioned on his side now too and looked at Peeta quizzically, while he stroked his hand up and down Peeta's arm. It was so intimate it overwhelmed Peeta in a smothering force that wrapped tightly around his heart until each beat took such an effort it felt like it might just burst.

"For what?" Cato inquired.

Peeta leaned forward the few inches it took to kiss Cato's nose and then answered, "Thanks for liking me back. No one's ever liked me before. I just wanted you to know that I'm going to do everything I can in the arena to protect you. I don't want to see you get hurt. Or-or worse…"

Cato pulled slightly back from Peeta, shock evident on his face.

"I- You don't- Peeta—"

"No Cato," He interrupted. He had to share this with him, while it was finally crystal clear in his mind. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. There's another reason I volunteered as tribute. I mean there were many... Like how I couldn't stand by anymore and let the district just take such young children from us to be massacred. Or how defiant I felt and just wanted to prove to the Capitol they can't control us all. But at the end of it all it was also because I knew I would be escaping home. I truly didn't want to go back there ever again and-"

Peeta choked up a little, this was harder than he realized. "And I still don't. So I've decided to commit myself to keeping you alive… and Katniss, for as long as I can. I have nothing to go back to and maybe this way I can give the people of Panem the hope they desperately crave. Someone actually selflessly sacrificing for others during the games instead of partaking in this ritual of death."

Peeta had not realized he'd closed his eyes, or that a few tears had slipped out during his confession. But it made sense. He was finally acknowledging to himself that he volunteered as a means of escape from his horrible life at home, something on the precipice of suicide by Hunger Games. He had never admitted to himself just how depressed and alone he really felt back in District 12 until now and it shocked him to his core. His blood flowed hot under his skin with the truth of his words. The months before the reaping had been getting progressively worse for Peeta and now he was finally able to see why: It wasn't because his mother or brothers had ramped up their abuse, or his father was more reclusive than ever. It was because he was beginning the process of detaching himself from those around him. He had been giving up the fight. It was why now he could be so brave and forthcoming, he had nothing left to fear.

Cato was left speechless. He just pulled Peeta in close as he let out a guttural sound from deep in his chest. "Peeta…"

But they didn't talk anymore. Peeta just nestled in closer, resting his face against Cato's muscled chest while Cato gently rubbed his back and pulled the sheet up around them until he drifted into the most peaceful nights sleep he had since the reaping. Maybe even before then.


	10. Chapter 10

The Interview

_Bang, bang, bang!_

"Big, big, big day ahead! So much to do!" Peeta bolted upright when he heard the high-pitched saccharine voice of Effie wail in excitement as she rapped against his bedroom door.

_Shit, I fell asleep. Cato!_ Peeta worried, but then as his grogginess dissipated he realized he was alone in the bed. He looked around the room and then bent over the bed to check under it. Nothing. He got up and quickly jumped over to his bathroom. Also empty. Cato was gone.

He tried to think back on last night and see if he could remember when Cato had left, but instead he only realized how he had for the first time since the reaping slept through the whole night. No nightmares, no tossing and turning in restless sleep, just deep uninterrupted slumber. _Cato had done that,_ Peeta realized with a smile.

He had not only given Peeta a great nights sleep, but one of the most intimate nights of his life. He had never felt so close to someone before and he couldn't believe that he was experiencing all of this leading up to the Hunger Games! It was insane. And on top of it all, he basically confessed to Cato that he might have been suicidal when volunteering for the games. They had not really talked about that part, instead falling asleep in each other's arms. He worried what his revelation would mean to Cato and the fact that he was going to fight to keep Cato alive in these games.

Peeta figured Cato must have woken up earlier than him and snuck out before anyone saw him here or his handler noticed him missing. Peeta then went to shower, hoping the steam would clear his head. He wished he could just skip this whole day, but then remembered what that would mean and his heart stopped for a second.

The Hunger Games would truly begin tomorrow. By lunchtime tomorrow Peeta may not even still be alive. Nor Katniss. Or Cato. Or any other innocent tribute thrown into these brutal games by the Capitol. He knew one thing for sure though, Stasson would make it through that bloodbath and if Peeta did too, Stasson would be coming for him. Hard. The promises he made to keep Cato and Katniss safe as long as he could may prove to be more difficult than he first anticipated with the large target Stasson had put on his back. But it only hardened his resolve.

Katniss and Peeta finished their breakfast and then parted ways, Peeta to spend the morning learning presentation with Effie while Katniss worked on content with Haymitch. Then after lunch they would switch.

And lunch could not come soon enough. Effie was particularly insufferable and Peeta really had to restrain himself from throwing his hands up in defeat and screaming. She had so much advice and critiques for Peeta his head felt like a spinning top on the verge of toppling. His posture often slouched when she asked personal questions, which were going to happen she promised. He also rubbed his hands across his legs too much or didn't hold eye contact long enough.

"Any good interview requires the participant to give forth their best appearance. A smile, hand gestures, eye contact… Posture!" She screeched at Peeta and his head snapped back up to attention. "All these things make for the perfect presentation."

He thought the worst part might have been when she made him practice his smile, as if he was trying to melt the heart of every female in the audience. _Or males_ , he thought grudgingly. His cheeks ached by the time lunch rolled around and he was freed from Effie's grasp.

"Have fun with Haymitch," Katniss deadpanned to Peeta, "He is going to break you if you don't give him the content he wants during your practice interviews."

Peeta could tell she was extremely annoyed from her session with Haymitch. Great, then he was sure to snap from all the expectations being placed on him by these two. Katniss was definitely going to have a fun time with Effie and that made him feel a little better. He wasn't alone in this.

"I'm sure Effie will only put you in a better mood then," Peeta replied sarcastically while rubbing at his sore jaw.

They finished their lunch in silence and then went their separate ways with Haymitch and Effie. During his time with Haymitch they tried to work out an angle for Peeta that would get him through the interview. Haymitch expected there would be a lot of attention paid to his time with Caesar anyways, due to his already impressive entrance into the games.

Haymitch grilled Peeta with question after mock question, yelling at him when he got too vague or indifferent in his answers.

"I don't want to hear what you think they want to hear! I want to hear what you actually feel! I know it may seem crazy and invasive to share anything with the Capitol that is personal, but you are at your best and most charismatic when you are open and honest. It will save you."

Haymitch surprised him, but he was right. Peeta had been opening up a lot more since volunteering for the games. He had never done that before, but in those moments before volunteering he knew he was ready to be heard. This was the time for Peeta to reveal his true self as he finally found and embraced it, _I may never have another shot_.

Portia and Cinna joined everyone for a spectacular dinner after Katniss and Peeta made it through another albeit shorter touch up by their prep team. At the dinner both Katniss and Peeta's favorite dishes were present, along with a huge array of desserts and gourmet mixed wines. Haymitch tried to refrain from overindulging in drinks. But Katniss and Peeta both decided a little liquid courage for tonight's interviews might be just what they needed. He felt his brain go a little fuzzy after his second glass. He quite enjoyed the relaxed sensation it brought over him. It was as if there had been hundreds of little annoying gnats flying around his head—distracting and clouding his thoughts—that he never noticed until they were gone, driven from his mind by the smoky haze of a little alcohol.

After dinner Portia helped Peeta dress in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo, with a fiery crimson bow tie. It was really the only touch Peeta could find in his outfit that spoke to his name, the boy on fire. But he still couldn't believe the man standing in the mirror in front of him. His blonde hair in a sinuous style across his forehead and his body never looked so well defined underneath so much clothing. _Who is that man?_ Peeta wondered as he stared at his own reflection. For the person that was looking back was definitely not the boy that had left the bakery the morning of the reaping.

They were currently in a dressing room backstage of the extravagant auditorium where Caesar would lead each of the tributes through their interviews. Giant columns, ornate crown moldings and high vaulted ceilings with decorative paintings created a grand setting while plush velvets and silky satins kept it warm and inviting. He was starting to feel nervous as the buzz from the wine began to ware off.

After taking what Peeta assumed was some odd Capitol version of a lint roller over the whole surface of his tux, Portia held out two small blazing red objects in her hands.

"Now Peeta, these are your cuff links. I ask that you do not put them on until you are to walk out for your interview. Can you do that for me?"

He took the cuff links from her hand and they were surprisingly warm to the touch, like they had their own energy source. He looked up at her for an explanation, but she just smiled and hugged him.

"I don't want to ruin the surprise. But they'll love it!" She beamed at him proudly.

Peeta gulped when he heard a crisp voice over the intercom, "One minute. Tributes, please gather in the wings."

"You can do this. Just be yourself and pretend like you are having a conversation with a good friend when you’re out there. It will be painless, you'll see." Portia said as she looked at Peeta with such sincerity in her eyes he couldn’t help but believe her.

"Can you promise the same for tomorrow?"

Peeta never got an answer as he was ushered to the wings of the stage, but he caught the flash of grief across her smooth features like a beautiful landscape marred by a flash flood, appearing in a matter of seconds and gone the next.

Sporting some wild purple hair and a deep plum suit to go along with it Caesar called out Glimmer to be the first tribute interviewed. She was wearing a skin tight and revealing sheer dress that shimmered like multihued jewels from the flashing lights of all the cameras. He didn't even have to wait for Caesar to ask his first question to know what her angle was, pure sex appeal.

"You are just a bombshell of a tribute, Glimmer. What have you enjoyed most about your time here in the Capitol?" Caesar asked while he fanned himself as if he was overheating.

"Oh you are too kind Mr. Flickerman." She giggled and blushed.

"Caesar, please."

She gave a devilish smile, "Of course, Caesar... Well I think I've enjoyed the people the most." She turned to flash the crowd another sultry smile, enhancing her curvaceous profile. "You are all just so caring and wonderful. Raining us with kind words and cheerful encouragement. I just want to win for each of you!"

Peeta was afraid his eyes might never come back down from the inside of his eyelids he was rolling them so much. She was so cheesy and the crowd loved it, the men practically touching themselves inappropriately over the sight of her.

Cato wore a well-fitted silver suit, with a deep chocolate brown dress shirt underneath that complimented his hazel eyes perfectly. Peeta was not surprised where he and his handlers had decided to go, playing up his ruthless killer shtick. It was keeping in line with what the viewers had seen of him so far and expected from Careers in 2. Why depart from that?

But seeing Cato so close to him caused those feelings from last night to rear their head with a vengeance. He had yet to really try and decipher all of what he was feeling for Cato; was it all just the intoxication of having his feelings returned for the first time or his libido and Cato's extreme good looks? Was this developing into something more or was the fact that they were in the Hunger Games with death and high stakes around every corner causing them to move faster than normal? He had no answers. It had only been four days… But none of that mattered Peeta decided. Because with a strict time limit on his life four days might as well have been four years. He just knew he liked what he was feeling and was willing to see where it would lead. Or where it wouldn’t.

"And Cato, what, may I ask, is your weapon of preference for these games?" Caesar asked.

"You mean besides these?" Cato leaned forward and flexed his right bicep.

Caesar laughed infectiously along with the audience, Peeta joined in as well.

"Touché, Mr. Ryves. Well I want to thank you and wish you the best of luck, Cato Ryves, tribute from District 2 everyone!"

Cato then marched off stage and took his spot next to Clove, where he would watch the rest of the interviews. He finally made eye contact with Peeta and gave him a small smile that instantly soothed Peeta's raw nerves.

When Stasson came on the stage a few tributes later Peeta watched as his arrogance was put on full display. What he didn't expect was Stasson to also incorporate a playboy persona into his interview. It surprised and disgusted him to think that he was trying to win hearts with his guise of a lover, no one even saw the hateful man from the training Peeta had come to know. But they would soon enough, Peeta was sure of that.

The whole audience hushed when little Rue danced out onto the stage, like a sweet little sprite in her whimsical emerald dress with layers upon layers of taffeta. She was shy, but so very adorable and Caesar was quite delicate with her as he complimented her on the great score of 7 she received the night before and helped guide her through the interview. Peeta saw Katniss watch Rue's interview with a very keen eye and knew she must be thinking how that could just as easily have been her sweet little Primrose up there on the stage, a tribute in these games and most certainly sentenced to death. Peeta hiccupped at the thought.

Eventually it was just Katniss and Peeta left to complete their interviews. Katniss managed not to come off completely hostile and did her best to charm the audience, but he could see the pain in her eyes at having to please her abusers.

By far her best performance of the interview came from when she stood for Caesar and twirled her dress for him, while wonderfully warm flames spun outwards from the edges of her spectacularly jeweled dress.

As she sat back down, dizzy and slightly giggly, she said, "I had to keep you all hot for the boy on fire, Peeta." Then she ducked her head deferentially to him.

And Peeta felt a sharp pang in his gut. _She's not even trying to win the audience over; she’s playing me up for them!_

"That was truly gorgeous.” Caesar gasped along with the audience, “You do complement your district partner well! What do you all think?" He turned out to the audience, with his hand cupped to his ear, as they all cheered for Katniss, and for Peeta.

When her three minutes were up it was finally Peeta's turn to be interviewed. His knees locked up and he had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

Walking out onto stage with his head held high, Peeta turned to the audience and gave them that winning smile he had worked so hard on with Effie. Then he snapped his cuff links into place on his tuxedo. He felt a slight undulation over the whole of his body and then heard the crowd go wild. The lights from the stage were intense and he tried to keep from squinting or tripping over his own feet.

Caesar Flickerman held out both hands with a look of pure wonder on his face.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the boy on fire, Peeta Mellark!"

Peeta took the few remaining steps to the plush decorative chair opposing Caesar. The crowd continued to roar with approval. His whole tuxedo rippled and glimmered with live flames all over that left a slight iridescent trail in his path, as if he were some fairytale creature leaving a discernable trail of magic as he sliced through the air. The cufflinks must have been the match to light a spark that truly brought Peeta's outfit to life and continued the boy on fire motif spectacularly.

"Well, well, I must say that you really know how to make an entrance Peeta!" He grinned widely at Peeta as he shook his hand like an old friend. "I must ask, when you and Katniss came out in the opening ceremonies I about lost my breath, what was it like for you?"

"Actually a pretty similar experience.” Peeta remembered to smile charmingly, “At first we feared we were going to burn alive. But once I saw my image televised back to me on the ride to the City Circle I knew my designer Portia had created one of the most stunning opening ceremony costumes with Cinna, and I couldn't believe I was part of it. I can't believe I'm wearing this now!" Peeta motioned to himself, his hand gesture leaving a slight radiance through the air from his still flaming tuxedo.

"I can already guess what the hottest fashion will be next season, flames!" Caesar hooted at the crowd, "Now how about that score of eleven!” Caesar enunciated the word brokenly for effect. “Another big moment for you I'm sure. Care to tell us what happened in there?"

Peeta glanced at the Gamemakers on their private balcony and cleared his throat nervously. Should he?

"Well it is supposed to be a secret training evaluation. So all I can really say is… I'm sure the Gamemakers won't forget it soon."

Caesar groaned along with the audience and Peeta thought it was almost fun to create such lively reactions, "Oh you're killing us!"

The camera's panned to the Gamemakers, who all played along in good spirit with laughs, as Seneca Crane raised a slight toast of his glass.

Caesar's playful nature then settled down as he asked a little quieter and with more familiarity, "And so you volunteered, a first for your district. For a young boy, Riece I believe. Can you take us back to that moment? What did the two of you say?"

The audience went still, all desperate to know a little more about Peeta's choice to volunteer. He sat up straighter as he tried to answer the invasive question.

"Well… I-I told him I would do this for him and he said I better win. Then afterwards…" Everyone, Caesar included, was hanging on to his words, "He came to visit me and gave me a pin his mother had given to him before she died, of-of a mockingjay. He told me that all of district 12 would be behind me."

"And what did you think of that?" Caesar pressed.

"I knew I couldn't let them down..." Peeta answered honestly.

"Wonderful, wonderful! And so… is there anyone special back home in District 12 for you?" Caesar smiled brightly, turning to the audience.

This line of questioning surprised Peeta, most of the other contestants weren't asked about their dating lives unless playing the sex appeal like Glimmer and Stasson.

"Uh no. Not really." He answered vaguely.

Caesar shook his head in disbelief.

"A great looking guy like you? I find that hard to believe! You must have a few girls back home waiting desperately for your return. Am I right?" The audience hooted and hollered in agreement.

Peeta didn't know what came over him, maybe it was the remnants of the wine or that defiant streak he kept running into, but he knew this was his time to really bring what he was to the table.

"Well there is this one person. But it probably wont work out with… him."

Caesar raised an eyebrow as the audience tittered in excitement.

"Oh ho, a boy! Why didn't you say? Is he seeing someone else then?"

The audience was hanging on to his every word now, anxious to know more about whom the boy on fire was pinning for. Romance was always a big draw and not often found in the games.

"Well I don't think so. I'm sure a lot of people want him." Peeta was fighting with all his might to keep from glancing over at Cato. He didn't want to give him away or see what he might be thinking of this line of questioning, it was hard enough to form coherent thoughts. Looking at Cato might just fry what was left of his already overcooked brain.

Caesar gripped Peeta's arm as he said, "Well here's what you do. You win this thing and go home, there's no way he can turn you down then!" The audience enthusiastically agreed with a burst of applause.

"Well the thing is, that wont work out." Peeta smiled sadly.

"And why not?" Caesar pressed in earnest.

Peeta looked towards the audience now and stumbled slightly, "B-because… he is also in the games with me."

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of noise just as the buzzer then went off just in time and Peeta felt a massive weight leave his shoulders. He had made it.

"Ladies and Gents, the last of our tributes, Peeta Mellark from District 12!"


	11. Chapter 11

The Games Begin: Day 1

The incessant droning of the hovercraft was overpowering all thoughts that rushed through Peeta's brain, which were threatening to erupt in an explosion of volcanic proportions. The ride was about an hour and with neither Katniss nor Cato on the craft with him he felt especially alone and vulnerable like a child lost from its mother.

A woman injected into his forearm his tracking device and then left him to sit among the other tributes in silence and dread. It hung in the air around them like a harsh humidity, soaking them through to bone. One of the younger tributes was crying for his mother. Peeta wished he had a family member to cry for.

When they arrived at the catacombs beneath the arena he was escorted along with Portia to his launch room. There was one last extravagant breakfast laid out for him, but he only picked at it modestly. Popping a few blueberries into his mouth with dejection, the sweetness that exploded in his mouth an odd combination with the fear that tartly poisoned his tongue and dried out his throat.

"Peeta, this may be your last meal for a while. Please eat up."

Realizing she was right Peeta started shoveling as much as he could into his mouth, hoping he wouldn't vomit from the nerves wracking his body. He just focused on chewing and swallowing, leaving all other thoughts aside. This would be the only time this room was used. Every year a different arena was made, the old preserved as a historical artifact. People would one day come through here on a tour and whisper about how this was the room that boy on fire launched from, the gay tribute from 12, who was in a star-crossed romance with someone else in the games. He was sure they would eat it up.

He wished he could have seen Cato one last time. After the interview he had looked all around for Cato's face, but he was already gone and Peeta couldn't help the feeling of a stinging slap to the face it left. Did Cato hate what he had done? He considered trying to sneak into District 2's living quarters, but thought better of it. It was their last night before the games. They needed rest. He may need time alone to prepare for tomorrow, even though they may never get the chance to be together again. Peeta just had to be content with the amazing night Cato had given him. It was more than he could have ever dreamed before these games started. Besides Peeta had sort of needed the time alone too, to recap what exactly he had just done, what was to come.

Come out to all of Panem. That was what he had done. Now everyone back home in District 12 was probably already abandoning him as a symbol of hope, disgusted by his revelation and probably hoping for his swift death in the opening minutes of the Hunger Games. His mother and brothers had probably openly disowned him by now, throwing their support behind Katniss, while his father remained as disinterested as ever.

No one really talked about it once they were back to the penthouse last night. Haymitch just gripped his shoulder tightly, and then went to the bar and grabbed a whole bottle of liquor, disappearing to his room, leaving Katniss and Peeta in extreme disappointment. _He had promised!_ They needed him now more than ever once the game started.

Effie congratulated him on a spectacular interview and then went her separate way too. Leaving Katniss who just looked at Peeta with a sad smile.

 "Well I guess that's it then. Isn't it?" She said.

"Yeah." He had looked back at her with a shrug.

He was just as unsure what to do. _What do you say to someone when you know this could be the last night of her life? Of your life?_ So they both headed to their rooms and tried to shut out the sounds of the Capitol citizens partying in the streets below them. Celebrating the last night before the games started and innocent lives would be lost.

In the early morning hours, before the sun had risen in the eastern horizon and brought with it the promise of death, Haymitch and Effie gathered their two tributes. It was an uncomfortable affair. Effie, in a somber blue wig and flesh colored pantsuit, looked like she just might cry and Peeta wondered if it was because she was happy to finally have two tributes in the games that had a fighting chance or she had actually come to care for them.

"Thank you for being the best tributes I have had the pleasure of sponsoring and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor…" Effie blew her nose into a beige handkerchief a scuttled away.

Peeta had to avert his eyes; he couldn't deal with the situation before him. If he acknowledged it he wasn't certain what he would do.

Haymitch shook both his and Katniss' hands tightly and Peeta was pleasantly surprised to find completely sober eyes that stared back. Did he not touch the liquor from last night? Had he restrained himself and actually kept his promise? Peeta hoped this meant their mentor would be fully engaged once the games started, because god knows they would need all the sponsors they could get.

"District 12 has never had a finer pair of tributes. Stay alive and remember, run when you hear that gong. Do not engage in the bloodbath." Haymitch then stepped aside as two Peacekeepers came and collected Katniss and Peeta. They were finally leaving the prison the Capitol had sentenced them to for the past week, but only to be lead to them to the final detention center where they would face the death penalty.

Portia helped Peeta dress into his outfit for the games. It was very simple, undergarments, covered in ocher pants of a light but durable material, a belt, comfortable leather boots, and a black hooded jacket with the number 12 boldly embroidered on the back. As Portia finished tucking him into his jacket she warned him of the most likely cold nights and not to loose the jacket.

Then she pulled out a small gold pin. He looked at Portia in disbelief, "Where did you get that?"

He thought he had lost Riece's mockingjay pin the first night he got it.

"I found it in your clothes from the train. I thought it could be your district token, so I took it to the Gamemakers to get it approved. Almost didn't make it because of the needle, but it passed. Now test your clothes for me."

Peeta squatted, ran around, and stretched his arms all about. "Yeah, all f-fine." He stuttered, his nerves creeping in, threatening to blacken out everything else.

"Would you like more food? To talk?" Portia asked.

Peeta just shook his head. He didn't want to do any of this. He was such a fool for volunteering for this. It was too much to handle. If he wanted to kill himself he should have just done it, because this was definitely worse. How could they expect any teenager to face this? He paced nervously, bracing for the call. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. I could be dead in a few short minutes. Katniss. Cato…_ He wanted to scream, rage, and throw things. Why was the Capitol doing this? Was it really worth it anymore? 73 years of Hunger Games, 23 dead a year, except for the 50th quarter quell when 47 died. He had done the math and figured out 1,704 children’s lives had been lost and televised for the entertainment of the Capitol. Peeta would just be one more body in the ever-growing count. It would never end.

He didn't know anymore if he was ready to die. Not after having Cato. He lit a fuse in Peeta. He made him feel things he never thought he would feel before and now he was going to loose it all. He thought to what Katniss must be going through with Cinna in her launch room. Or what Cato must be experiencing. Were they just as terrified?

"Time to prepare for launch," Seneca Crane's calm voice announced.

Portia helped guide Peeta over to the launch pad as he began to shake fiercely.

"P-Portia…"

She cupped his face briefly and tried to calm him, to take some of his burden, but he could see the sorrow in her eyes too. It was unbearable.

"Remember what Haymitch said. Run; do not engage in the bloodbath. Find water immediately. You can do this, my boy on fire."

He let out a strangled sob as a glass cylinder slid down from the ceiling, encasing him inside. He felt appallingly claustrophobic in the narrow tube. Portia separated from him, the glass like a cruel knife slicing from him the possibilities of a long and prosperous life. She looked at him with nothing but pride in her eyes and he tried to look back with strength, but it was a struggle. There wasn’t enough time.

Suddenly the cylinder began to rise. Peeta tried to stand straight as possible as he was enveloped in darkness. A light was shinning above him, but it did not offer the promise of salvation, quite the opposite. He yearned for an escape, a way to not have to do this. Death and killing was about to be all around him, about to become his life. The nausea threatened to return with a vengeance and he fought to keep it at bay. There was nothing to do but stand in the tiny enclosure and battle his emotions while he rose to the surface.

As he rose into the light he was blinded. He was only conscious of what his other senses could pick up, like the wind against his body or the smell of pine needles. This must be a forest, like the one outside his district. He could handle that, no ocean to drown in at least.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the field.

Peeta could now see all 24 tributes arranged in a curved line a good distance from the golden Cornucopia. They had sixty seconds, indicated by a ticking clock atop the Cornucopia. As the clock shed each second Peeta felt a daunting pressure building in his temple. He swallowed the bile in his throat and forced his body to come alive and take control of the tremors that threatened to keep him immobilized.

He glanced around. Katniss was about four people over from him. Cato was even further; he couldn't even make out those hazel eyes. But he had a fierce look of determination. He was going to run straight into the bloodbath for weapons. Peeta's heart dropped into his stomach at the thought.

_40 seconds_.

Peeta noticed how most of the powerful weapons and useful items like medicine and food were clustered around the mouth of the Cornucopia and then spread out in less frequency towards the tributes. He spotted a bow and arrow in the Cornucopia, spears, swords and knives, various types of axes, and a large iron war hammer. Then a backpack, only 10 yards from him. He could get something. He knew it. And if he could get hold of one of those weapons maybe he stood a real chance.

_23 seconds._

He looked to his right and there were the woods, to his left a lake, and behind the Cornucopia a large field of wheat maybe, the long stalks swayed gently in the breeze. He dared not look behind him, not with-

_10 seconds_.

He looked at Cato one last time and sent a prayer out to nothing in particular, _please be okay._ A bead of sweat dripped down from Peeta's brow and over his nose. It tickled and he wished to wipe it away, but…

_6 seconds._

He caught Katniss staring at him as he scanned the items strewn out before the tributes and she shook her head. No, she was telling him. Run, like Haymitch said.

_3_

_2_

_1._

The gong rang out and it hit Peeta like a truck. He hesitated. Katniss had thrown him off. _Fuck._ But he still decided to go for it. He ran with the other tributes towards the nearest useful item as they all scattered, towards the Cornucopia for weapons or towards some plastic sheeting or off into the woods. The backpack, that’s what Peeta had set his sights on. He didn't know what would be inside it, but it would be better than nothing, he knew it. The weapons were off the table now.

Suddenly he heard a guttural scream and looked up. The bloodbath had begun. A girl, possibly from 10, had just been struck down. A boy with a machete had amputated one of her arms and Peeta couldn't peel his eyes away from the lifeless limb bleeding out onto the grass. He had seen things like this on his television at home when watching the games, but this was real, in three-dimension and right before his very eyes. Not an image being broadcast miles away to the safety of his home. Then the boy swung his bloodied blade down with a cry as it connected in a sickening sound to her skull, cleaving it open, blood everywhere and exposing pink brain tissue.

Soon there were cries of pain and fear all around. The harsh sound of metal against metal or worse, against flesh. A younger boy let out a bloodcurdling scream as a knife, thrown by Clove, sank deep into his back. He then fell to the ground in convulsions.

Peeta swooped up the backpack before anyone else got it, only to fall back, startled as a knife was flung into it. He looked up to see a sadistic smile on Clove's face as she stalked towards Peeta. Gripping another knife in her hand, taking aim.

But suddenly the girl from 3 had tackled her and was trying to fight the knife away from Clove for herself. She was larger than Clove and probably thought she could take her. But Clove was faster and better trained, slitting her throat open in one swift motion, deep red spattering Clove's face. She wiped it off with her arm in a proud smirk, not even flinching.

But Peeta had already taken off in a dead heat, knowing he couldn't stay here any longer. He hadn't seen where Katniss went, but figured she would be in the woods like Haymitch said.

Peeta wasn't fast enough to make the entrance of the wood though. Stasson had picked the large war hammer from inside the Cornucopia and was using it to smash in the face of a boy tribute from 7, the sleek and shiny surface of Stasson's hammer gleamed with the gore of his victim. The sound of bone shattering and crunching to broken shards with each impact to the boys face was so loud and revolting it chilled Peeta to the core. He stumbled.

Stasson looked up in triumph and pointed with the large hammer at Peeta, flesh from 7's face stuck to the undersurface of his hammer. His outfit already splattered in blood and his black eyes ablaze with bloodlust, "12!"

Peeta had a good distance on Stasson, but he began to charge him and Peeta put all the strength he had into his legs. He couldn't let Stasson catch up to him. He had promises to fulfill. All the emotions swirling around Peeta during these moments since the games had started coalesced into a sharp pointed fear, one that coursed through his hot veins like fire. Stasson, the giant predator from 4 was coming for him. He wanted Peeta's flesh and bone on that hammer too.

Once in the woods the sounds of death and mayhem started to fade. The air even began to clear and he hadn't realized how the smell of blood was permeating the atmosphere around the Cornucopia. Now all he could hear was his own blood pumping in his ears as he ran, his footsteps crunching through the dry earth as a heavier footed step slammed down in chase behind him. Stasson soon faded from distance too. Peeta either outpaced him too much or Stasson had decided to go back to the Cornucopia, finish up anyone left there and team up with the rest of the Careers.

Whichever he had decided Peeta was not going to take time to look behind him and find out. He swung the backpack around to his front while he jogged down a slope in the woods and pulled out the knife still stuck into it, a gift from Clove. Now he at least had a weapon. He held the knife tightly in his fist, urging the unyielding metal to give him its strength.

Eventually Peeta had to slow down and take a break, panting heavily and exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the morning had brought. He propped himself up against a tree and decided to check out what was in the backpack he snagged. Inside he found a few packs of crackers, nuts and dried fruits, some rope, a rain jacket, wire, a sleeping bag, matches, two large bandages and gauze, tape, sunglasses and… a water canteen! Exactly what he had been hoping for. He was already parched from the whole morning and by the positioning of the sun he guessed it was afternoon now.

Unfortunately it was an empty water canteen. Peeta groaned in frustration. It meant he would have to keep going. He would not last long with out water.

BOOM….

BOOM, BOOM!

Peeta jumped, startled by the loud cannon shots. They were finally going to mark the deaths from the bloodbath. Peeta counted as they went off, all the way up to eleven. Peeta felt sick. Eleven kids were now dead, their bodies probably already collected and being shipped home to their families to be buried.

Now Peeta started to worry. Eleven tributes were dead an awful high number for the bloodbath and he feared what may have happened to Katniss. Did she make it to the woods? Or was she taken down before that?

_And what of Cato?_ He thought fretfully. _What if Stasson or Clove had put it together that Cato was the guy I had feelings for? It wouldn’t be that hard. Would they have killed him to spite me? Or would they wait to use him against me later?_

Peeta was now feeling really stupid for having ever said anything to Caesar in the interview. He had just given his enemies a great advantage in this game. He opened a package of dried fruit and ate them absentmindedly, always keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of danger around him.

Once finished he got up from his spot, repacked his bag and continued the hunt for water. He figured he might as well continue downhill. _There must be water collecting somewhere at the bottom_ , he thought.

But his hike ranged on and on and he came no closer to finding a source of water. The sun was beating down on him through the sparse woods and he felt his throat beginning to ache and scratch something fierce. Growing up as the baker’s son he had never been in such a dire position as some in the Seam and so this was particularly hard to suffer for Peeta.

On top of it all he was feeling lonely, desperate and still ever fearful. There was no water to be found anywhere. He had no allies to help him, no idea where he was going or what he would do. And as icing on the cake he was hungry again. This couldn't last much longer.

He decided as the temperature finally started to drop with the setting sun he would find a place to stay for the night. He found a rather large looking tree, with a small hollowed out space in the trunk he could back into. He built up a good camouflage around the area with leaves, dry sticks, dirt and a small shrub he had dug up. He even smeared dirt across his face. From a distance at night no one would be able to see him sleeping up against the tree. He hoped.

After settling in against the hollowed out trunk of the tree he pulled out the saltine crackers to eat. It wasn't much, but better than going to sleep hungry. Sadly he would go to sleep parched. He hoped tomorrow would be more successful in his search for water as he tried to swallow a chewed cracker, but found it difficult due to the dryness of his mouth. He couldn't die from dehydration in the games. He was better than that.

With the sun now down Peeta could look up at the sky and see the slightly reflective surface of an energy field all around, the edges of their arena. Then the anthem suddenly began to play, echoing throughout the arena. The death recap was going to begin.

In the sky above Peeta the Capitol seal appeared and his fingers dug into his thighs as he braced for the possibility of terrible news. But he was quickly relieved to find the first image of one of the dead a male tribute from 3, then the female from 3. So all the tributes from 1 and 2 were alive. So were Stasson and Uphelia. No surprise there. A boy from 5 was dead. Both tributes from 6, 7 and 9 were dead, along with the male from 8. There was only one more possible death and Peeta was extremely relieved yet again to see it was the girl from 10. Katniss had made it.

So for tonight he didn't have to deal with any losses. Cato, Katniss and Peeta were all still alive as the first day of the Hunger Games came to a close. Peeta found solace in that thought as he tried to drift to sleep, hunger and thirst clawing at his throat.


	12. Chapter 12

The Games: Day 2

_Crack!_

Peeta wasn't sure what time it was, but it couldn't have been more than a few hours since he first fell asleep. But something had woken him from his light and restless slumber, a cracking sound.

_Snap!_

He pushed himself up a little and tentatively stuck his head out from the hallowed trunk of the tree; just enough to look around in the dark woods for whatever had disturbed the peace. He saw nothing. That made him more worried. He clutched the knife from Clove in his hand tightly, until his knuckles were white from the strain. His nose was running slightly from the cold air, but he didn't dare sniffle or move to wipe it. He was very thankful for the jacket and sleeping bag.

_Snap! Snap! Crackle._

Peeta finally saw off in the distance the faint glow of a small fire that was currently being fed tinder to grow bigger. _Are they crazy?_ Peeta thought. _Everyone knows the first night the Careers continue on hunting._ That fire was going to draw a lot more than moths _._ Peeta checked his camouflage to make sure nothing had shifted in his sleep to reveal his position. Everything was fine to his relief. He rubbed more dirt onto his face for good measure. That's when he heard it, the laughing, voices. The careers had spotted the fire. Peeta wondered briefly if Cato would be among their group.

Whoever had started the fire didn't stand a chance now. Suddenly he heard a girls voice cry out, "No! Oh please!"

She had been discovered. Peeta cringed. He felt sick to his stomach. Another life was about to be lost and he wasn't going to do anything. He couldn't, he was severely outnumbered and all he had was one knife. Peeta braced for the sound of the cannon, but it did not come. Instead he heard the girl sob in a muffled way, as if her face was being shoved in to the ground. He heard another girls voice groan disaffectedly, "Men…"

He wondered what horrors they were doing to this girl. Torturing her? That voice, maybe Glimmer's, sounded a little disgusted. _Men_. Peeta was revolted by the disturbing thought that ran through his mind. But it seemed more plausible by the second as he heard a grunt and the girls muffled cries.

BOOM!

Peeta shook, startled by the sudden cannon shot, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. _Good, the poor girl was finally dead,_ Peeta thought. _Now just go the other way._ But of course it wouldn't be that easy. The careers started to head his way after their kill. He saw Uphelia, a small bloody scrape to her cheek being the only visible sign she had been in a fight, leading with Clove through the trees straight towards his spot. There was no way they saw him, _right?_

"It's quite cold in here at night, I didn't expect that," Uphelia complained.

"Well you should have grabbed one of those bigger jacket then before we left the Cornucopia," Clove snapped with little patience.

They stopped a few feet from Peeta's hiding spot as arguing could be heard behind them. Stasson was saying something.

"… and I wasn't finished!"

Cato was walking next to Stasson now as they marched to catch up to the two girls leading the way. Marvel and Glimmer close behind, seeming engrossed in their own conversation.

"Get over it. I killed her because I was done with her and bored. It's late, I'm tired and I didn't want to be up another hour while you play with your victim," Cato replied irately, his nostrils flaring.

"You don't get to call those shots, 2." Stasson growled in reply.

Cato swung around to face Stasson, his sword arcing through the air and resting pointedly against Stasson's exposed throat, forcing him to tilt his head back. Then he spoke slowly and clearly.

"I think I do, 4. Do you have a problem with that?"

Stasson swung his hammer up, knocking the sword from his throat in agitation, a fierce look on his angular face. But Peeta saw he had been cut, a small trickle of blood was now running down his neck along the trail of a thick vein that pulsed with anger.

"I'll let that slide this time Cato. But once we find lover boy, I'll be calling the shots. Do you understand me?"

Cato waved a hand flippantly, "Whatever."

"Lets not fight now boys. We can compare cock sizes back at the base." Clove grabbed Cato's hand in hers.

They were now right by Peeta. He didn't dare breath. Afraid even the slightest exhale would give way to his position. His eyes narrowed in on Cato's sword though and saw it stained in blood, that tributes blood. He was the cause of her cannon fire. Peeta felt a foul taste in his mouth, as if he had just eaten an extremely bitter fruit. _What has happened to you Cato?_ Peeta wondered, thinking back to everything Cato had said on the roof that night and compared it to the man he was now seeing before him. Cold. Uncaring. Aggressive. He was fighting for the dominant role with Stasson that was for sure.

Peeta wondered what the audience must have been thinking of this whole encounter. The cameras were sure to know Peeta was there, having watched him build his encampment in the tree earlier in the day. The audience was probably beside themselves in excitement over the fact that the careers were only mere feet away from Peeta. But they would only be met with disappointment for tonight. When the careers finally moved away from where Peeta was hiding he inhaled a deep breath. Then he tried to push away the troubling thoughts clouding his mind from the events of tonight. Like if Cato even still cared for him or was he now back on track, ready to be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games for his father? Had everything been a lie, was Katniss right?  He curled into as a small of a ball as he could inside the hallowed out trunk, still fearful they might come back and find him. Sleep was fitful and shallow after that encounter.

When the sun rose hours later Peeta's muscles felt weak. He had very little sleep after the interruption with the Careers. He ate another pack of dried fruit and then realized it must have been 24 hours now since he had anything to drink. He needed to get a move on it and find some or he wouldn't stand a chance if he stumbled upon another tribute. Even a younger one could over power him in this weak state that was sure to only get worse as the day wore on with no water in sight.

And he guessed right. It had to be around noon as Peeta continued to wonder aimlessly searching for water. He grew frustrated and began to indulge in self-pity. He had no idea what he was doing in these woods. This was Katniss' thing, not his. _I'm probably wondering in circles and the audience is having a good old laugh about it as Caesar points out landmarks I most likely passed by hundreds of times and never even noticed._

The sun scorched his skin and Peeta wondered if the Gamemakers were turning up the heat to make him dehydrate faster. He wouldn't put it past them. But it did seem a little early for them to be manipulating the elements in the arena. The remnants of dirt from the camouflage last night felt itchy against his face and he scrubbed at it harder to remove it but found it was caked on too thick.

All of a sudden Peeta's foot got caught in an upturned root and he tripped. He fell face first and thought he may have bruised his nose against the compact dirt surface.

"Fuck…" He moaned as he just lay there in pain. He didn't even have the energy to get back up at the moment. So he just continued to lie there and pity his situation where he now knew for a fact Cato had gone back to his brutal Career ways and wrote Peeta off, while Katniss was probably set up with food, water and a bow and arrow, ready to pick the rest of the tributes off as they moved by her. He would be quickly forgotten. Just some fluke of a tribute. It was ridiculous of him to think that he could have been a threat in these games to anyone. Or that he could try and protect the only two people he's ever cared about. Because realistically he was just a baker’s son with an artistic flare and a little muscle mass, but no real skills to give him any type of advantage in the game. No, he was good as dead.

After laying there for a bit he finally started to open up his sense to what was around him instead of the pity party he was throwing and that's when he heard it. A wonderful, marvelous, too good to be true sound, a splash!

He raised his head weakly. A splash meant water. He listened closer and then heard it, the rush and tinkling of running water. He was up faster than lightning and running, not knowing where the second wind came from, but not questioning it.

Quickly he came upon a riverbank and let out a cry of relief, diving down on his knees to scoop handfuls of the water to his lips. The cool, crisp water was the perfect medicine for his burning throat. He gulped and choked down the water until his thirst was quenched. He washed his face clean in the water, finally free of the dirt that clung to it from the night before. Then he pulled out the water canteen and filled it to the brim.

"How's that water treatin' ya?"

Peeta flung around to face the direction the voice had come from, knife held outward in his hand, his body ready for combat. Now that he had just found water, he was not about to go down with out a fight. But to his utter surprise and relief he came face-to-face with—

"Katniss!" He dropped the knife and threw his arms around her, embracing her in a large bear hug.

She seemed surprised by his form of greeting, but laughed and then lightly hugged back, patting his back, "Okay Peeta, you're crushing me."

"I'm sorry. Well no, I'm not! I'm just so glad to see you. It's been an awful few days." He pulled back with a big smile.

"Yes it has." She sighed and nodded her head in agreement, which is when he noticed the large bruise over her right eye.

"What happened?" He motioned to the wound.

She briefly fingered the bruise tenderly then said, "Well after the games began I ran straight into the wood, but didn't get too far before butting heads with some girl tribute, I think from 5. We were both too terrified to do anything except keep running. So not really a battle wound. But since then I have been looking for water. I also haven't had much food, what with no weapons. It's been a struggle…" He rolled her shoulders and rubbed at her face.

Peeta quickly grabbed his rucksack off the ground and pulled out some food.

"Oh Katniss, here. I was able to snatch this bag. There's some food left. And I have some wire for snares and this knife, courtesy of Clove. Think you could catch us some real food?"

She took the crackers and inhaled them gratefully, before giving him a big grin as she took the knife.

"This is perfect. I actually already set up a few snares this morning. I'm sure we should have something nice in one of them to eat. Lets check it out."

As he followed Katniss back into the woods he felt extremely thankful that he had found her alive. Now they could really work together and he could make good on his promise of trying to keep her alive. He felt like he finally had a purpose since the games had started.

That evening, after eating a great meal of a woodland rabbit cooked over a small fire, they decided to look for a safe place to spend the night. The riverbank was too exposed so they decided to cross the river and head into the woods on the other side, searching for higher ground.

Soon the sun had gone down and the anthem played. The only person to have died today was the one from the early morning hours by the Careers, a girl from 8. Soon her image faded away, just like the memory of her, never to be seen again.

Katniss had finally stopped walking and pointed upward. He looked up; it was a large tree, maybe oak? With sturdy looking branches at varying heights and thickness.

"We can sleep up there. Use the ropes in your pack to tie ourselves against a thick branch so we don't fall out. It's the safest place I can think of."

Katniss climbed the tree like a pro while Peeta struggled a little bit. He didn't have nearly her capacity for balance and his weight made him nervous on some of the branches. But she helped lead him on a path up to a sturdy branch that he could secure his self to for the night.

"So the pack… was it worth it?" Once they were both situated Katniss asked, motioning to his pack.

Peeta shivered, and not from the dropping temperature.

"I know Haymitch said to run straight into the woods, but I just couldn't help myself. So I went for this." He pulled the backpack a little closer to him.

"I'm glad I did because I had some food to eat and a sleeping bag for last night—it was freezing, but witnessing the bloodbath first hand…" He searched for the appropriate words to describe it, "It was truly hideous. The screaming and the gore... I would have rather not... I just keep seeing the image of this girls arm just—just lying there on the ground. Motionless and dead, which she soon followed."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to say more. I could hear it, when I was running. Eleven dead. It just… makes you wonder about things. Life. What's important, what this all means in the end…" Katniss touched his arm. She looked at him intriguingly, but said nothing further.

They drifted into a companionable silence, neither willing to talk anymore, but also not ready for the likely fitful night of sleep ahead of them. Peeta rested his head back against the rough bark of the tree and did his best not to let his thoughts wonder to Cato, but he just kept hearing the girls muffled cries and then the thunderous boom of the cannon followed by Cato and his blood soaked sword. At some point, lost in the horrible memories, he fell asleep.

Peeta was startled awake with a cry in the early dawn.

"Peeta! We've got to move, now!"

His eyes opened to pandemonium before him and immediately began to sting from the smoke. A wall of fire was descending upon them as a stampede of animals rushed by beneath.

Peeta managed to untie himself first and lunged over to help Katniss, whose rope had gotten tangled in her sleep. He pulled out the knife and began slicing through the ropes until she was freed. He then began his descent to the ground but suddenly Katniss hit him hard from above and they fell in a mess to the ground. A giant ball of fire exploded in the spot they had just been in the tree.

Katniss pocketed the knife Peeta had dropped, threw Peeta the backpack and they both took off in a sprint away from the wall of fire. The heat was unbearable, warping the air around as the clouds of smoke threatened to suffocate them both. Manipulated winds pushed the pulsating fire after them at preternatural speed.

"Kat-niss, it's everywhere!" Peeta coughed out as he tried to search for a way out. His lungs burned.

Katniss pointed up ahead, using her other arm to shield her nose and mouth from the smoke.

"There!" She shouted. A slight opening in the inferno, a possible means of escape from these Gamemaker operated flames.

They ran towards it when Peeta heard a rushing sound and another ball of fire exploded past them, the heat of it singing his clothes. It hit a tree just ahead of them, charring the trunk in seconds and knocking it over, closing their one escape and blowing them onto their backs. As Peeta pulled himself back up he saw Katniss had hit her head against a rock, blood streaming from a now open wound on her temple, partially obscuring her view.

Peeta took her hand in his and ran, leading her through the falling embers and smoke away from their now blocked exit. The roar of the flames engulfed his senses and fear threatened to over take him at any moment as he tried to lead them out of the firestorm. He felt just like that 13-year-old boy, stuck in the coalmines with his only friend, fighting back the panic and rising despair as they looked for an escape. This time he would find it and they would breakout, alive, together.

He searched frantically for a way out. The fire raged all around them, its smoke threatening to choke the life from him. His eyes squinted in discomfort as they watered. His breathing became labored. Finally he spotted through the smoke and blazing trees their salvation: an outcropping of rocks, which he knew to be hanging over a curve in the river. He pulled Katniss with him as fast as his feet could carry him, "Come on! Just a little farther."

Just as they made it to the outcropping he stumbled when Katniss' foot caught on something. It dragged her down. He could hear the building sound of another fireball getting ready to be thrown their way. He dove to Katniss' feet, pulling her left foot free from the tangle of roots she was caught in. Then Peeta pulled her up and shoved her over the ledge and into the water. The ball of fire hit the rock right next to him, exploding in giant bursts of scorching ember.

"AH!" Peeta screamed in excruciating pain as he tumbled over and into the water after Katniss.

He was unable to move his right arm, it burned cruelly even in the cool flowing water. He struggled to right himself fearing he would drown, unable to swim. Luckily the water was not too deep and he was able to stand with his head above the water.

Katniss helped pull him to shore as they both panted in exhaustion filling their lungs with clean, fresh air.

"Peeta, your arm!"

She touched a tentative finger to where he had been burned. His flesh, exposed under the charred material of his shirt, was bright red and blistered from his elbow up to his shoulder. Peeta let out a strangled sob. The Gamemakers and audience must have been having quite a laugh, the boy who was on fire finally burned.

"I-I'll be fine. What about your head?"

Katniss shook her head like she was shaking off bothersome flies. She may have looked a little dizzy, but otherwise fine.

"It'll heal, but we need to do something about this burn. It could get infected fast."

She started to rip some cloth from the bottom of her shirt when dread coursed through his body like a shot of adrenaline ramping his heartbeat back up. _How much more can my heart, can we take?_ The Gamemakers had started that fire for another reason than just to entertain the audience and keep them on their toes. It was to drive them together with the Careers, who were now rushing towards Peeta and Katniss from further down the riverbank in gleeful anticipation.

"Shit!" Katniss yelled. "Peeta, come on!"

He got back up and forced his body to sprint after her into the woods as pains shot up both his legs and his shoulder throbbed angrily, the strap from the backpack pulling viciously against the boils, threatening to make them pop like bubble wrap.

"Thanks for helping lead us to you! Did you start that fire, flamer?" Stasson was now calling after them.

Peeta had a hard time keeping up with Katniss and it looked as if she herself was still pretty beat from the Gamemakers fire. They were in no position to take on the Careers. It took too much focus to try and not trip over the forest terrain and keep up with Katniss. Something was going to have to give.

Uphelia and Clove were cackling like hyenas during the chase, but Peeta dared not look back to see how close they were or what Cato may have been doing in this situation. Maybe all hope really was lost for them if he was chasing him down too. Katniss must have figured the same thing, because soon she stopped running, looked up and around for a second, and then began to climb a large tree with lightening speed as an arrow whizzed past Peeta, sticking into a spot on the tree her left foot had been moments before.

Peeta ran to the tree and tried to pull himself up, but only managed to scream in agony as he stretched the burn on his arm to the limit. He fell back to the ground the few feet he had managed to lift himself off with a jarring thud. Why would Katniss have chosen to climb a tree when she knew he had a badly injured arm? _Was she abandoning him now too?_ Peeta wondered in alarm.

He ripped the arrow out of the tree trunk since Katniss had the knife and turned to face his pursuers with determination. He would do what he had to then to keep Katniss safe, even if that meant giving them the distraction of killing him so she could escape.

When he turned around, braced with the small arrow, he found himself face-to-face with Stasson's vile looking war hammer held out before him, waiting. The burnished metal was caked in the dried blood of fallen tributes. Soon Peeta’s blood would join them.

"And so here we finally are, glad to see you kept alive for me, 12."


	13. Chapter 13

The Games: Day 3

It was still early morning and Peeta couldn't quite wrap his head around how much had just happened. How he had just got here, to this predicament. He had been sleeping somewhat peacefully up in a tree not more than an hour ago, reunited with Katniss, thirst quenched and well fed. Now he found himself badly burned, physically and mentally exhausted, and cornered by all the Careers. His time in the games seemed to be up. He felt like an inconsequential bug about to be stomped out of existence and surely not to be missed.

He held the arrow out before him as his only defense, but wanted to laugh at the ridiculous image he must have sent their way. A dirty, burnt, and bloodied boy from 12 hunched in pain and fatigue, holding a flimsy arrow at them as some feeble form of self defense. He probably looked like some wild refugee from the days of war, except there was no sanctuary here. But whatever worked as long as Katniss found a way to maybe scurry to another tree and escape them while he held them off for her with his drawn out death at the hands of Stasson.

He knew all eyes in Panem had to be currently on them, surely nothing else as exciting as this was going on throughout the arena. The famed boy on fire and his fellow tribute from 12, chased by flames and now facing off with the entire pack of Careers was must watch television for sure. Caesar was probably giddy with excitement as he pontificated over the situation on their screens. Were people in 12 worried for him or only rooting for Katniss' escape?

"Kill him, babe!" Uphelia drawled as she hung herself off Stasson's muscled arm in an annoying fashion, her pointed nose offending Peeta.

Marvel meanwhile asked Glimmer, "Think you can shoot Katniss down with an arrow?"

"Let's see babe…" She shrugged and Peeta wondered how much training she had with that weapon. He couldn't remember her practicing with it once during training. But she strung a bow and took aim.

The arrow let loose with a gust of air and connected with nothing. It just flew on past. At least that's what Peeta assumed; he didn't hear a cry of pain from Katniss or her fall from the tree, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Stasson. He glared him down. He wasn't even going to give Cato the satisfaction of looking at him one more time before he died, knowing for sure now he must have thrown himself in with the Careers.

"Fuck…" Glimmer stomped her foot in frustration as she loaded another arrow.

"Enough, we'll get her next. Right now I'm going to really enjoy breaking every one of lover boys bones." Stasson said in a deep menacing voice as he swung his hammer ferociously, breaking Peeta's arrow into splinters with ease.

"Ooh yes.” Uphelia whimpered in excitement, “It's just a shame we wont know who that guy was he developed a little crush on. I'd like to kill him next. Oh!" She jumped with her exclamation. "Why don't you beat it from him? He'll die knowing he betrayed his little lover."

Why wasn't Cato saying anything, doing anything? Was he really going to just stand by and let Stasson do this? Well Peeta knew he wasn’t going to give Cato’s name up; he can know Peeta died still protecting him, even if he wouldn't return the favor.

"Sounds fun, Uphelia. That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say." Stasson laughed with a deep bravado.

He then pushed a miffed Uphelia off his arm and Peeta braced his body for the coming impacts, sure to deliver more pain than he had experienced in his life. He thought back to all the times his mother had beat him with her rolling pin or bare hands and knew it was all just practice rounds, preparing him for the main event when Stasson would come along with a large hammer and smash him until he was unrecognizable. He jutted out his chin because he wanted the Districts to see him face his death with his head held high. He wasn't going to look away or show fear. He wanted the cameras to get one last good shot of his face and see the defiance etched across it. Peeta was not afraid of Stasson, the Capitol or death.

"PEETA, RUN!" Katniss screamed.

Peeta tried to grasp why she was yelling this now. If he could he would already be doing it. But then suddenly he heard the sound of a branch snapping and falling to the ground not mere feet from him and to the right of Stasson. Right next to Uphelia. Attached to the tree limb was a large hive out of which detonated hundreds of buzzing and furious tracker-jackers. Peeta had one fleeting image of seeing Uphelia swarmed in the outward explosion of tracker-jackers, screaming and flailing, before he felt a piercing pain on his neck as one of them stung him, then he slapped at another on his cheek.

Everyone was screaming and scattering in terror as the muttations swarmed outwards and around them. Peeta had no idea where he was running too, but he just knew that he couldn't let himself get stung to death, their venom being extremely poisonous. Katniss had created the perfect escape for him, but not with out major risk to both their lives.

He cried out again as another tracker-jacker stung the exposed skin of his arm. Then another pierced the back of his neck. They were unquestionably tracking him. He pushed on further, his feet slipping against the dead leaves littering the forest floor. A loud BOOM rang out from one of the cannons and almost knocked Peeta to the floor. Who was dead? Peeta managed to find his way back to the river with only one more sting before he dove into the water with out hesitation, knowing it would be the only way to escape the killer wasps. He held his breath and stayed submerged for as long as he could. Hoping the wasps tracking him would move on to another target if they couldn't reach him.

Then he thought back to Katniss as he held on to a mossy rock to stay underwater. Did she make it out of there alive? He needed to go back and look for her; they were better, safer together. So he prepared himself and then pulled up from the water and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The sun was extremely bright and caused sunspots to burst across his vision. The poison from the stings was already beginning to affect his addled brain, which felt slow and fuzzy, as if he had just done a few shots of liquor. The muttations were gone, having moved on to track another tribute.

Peeta stumbled his way back to the tree, but it got more difficult as he walked. The ground seemed to grow uneven beneath his feat. The air warped around him. His wet clothing stuck to him uncomfortably as if it were constricting around his body slowly trying to incapacitate him. A bird flew from a tree and then exploded into blood and feathers before his eyes. Another BOOM of cannon fire rang out and the sound made his head spin. The air seemed to ripple from the sound. He shook his head hard thinking, _no; no I've got to find Katniss. Move, Peeta!_

Not knowing which tree they had been chased too Peeta searched desperately. Thankfully he knew it when he found it. The nausea from before came racing back as he saw two dead bodies beneath the tree before him. One was Uphelia, her body almost unrecognizable, completely covered in welts and lumps, oozing a revolting green puss from hundreds of stings. He then looked further on from her to see another had fallen too, she must have tried to run and been over taken, just like Uphelia. Her left leg twisted out in a grotesque angle. Peeta’s heart stuttered as he drew closer to the body, but the blonde hair revealed it to be Glimmer. Her beautiful body was no longer perfect and smooth, but angry, swollen and pussy.

Katniss was no were to be found, which was a good thing. He also noticed that Glimmer's fingers were broken backwards and her bow and arrow was missing. _'Atta girl, Katniss._

He then watched in abject horror as Glimmers disfigured body started to swell in size. It grew larger and larger like an inflating balloon, her skin stretching taut and growing thinner with the pressure, until she burst, raining blood and puss all around him. He fell back in fright. Was that real? He didn't know what to believe, his eyes deceived him at every turn. He heard what sounded like sprinting feet, but had no idea where it was coming from.

"I'll FUCKING kill them!"

The expletive reverberated around him in a confusing cacophony, _fucking_ , _FUCKING_ , _fuck-ing_ , followed by a sudden loud chorus of screeching metal clangs and grunts. They tore at his eardrums like knives. He pulled himself back up, knowing he had to get out of there. But the venom was really beginning to intoxicate him and his shoulder seemed to have a pulse of its own as the boiled skin burned deeply. He looked around disoriented, not knowing which path would lead to safety. He felt the sting on his cheek give a nasty throb and he touched it, pulling back a sticky green substance.

"Not surprised… nothing but a pet… should have killed…"

"He's not…nothing like… No! Run, run!"

Peeta could only make out parts of the argument, but he knew that voice, even in his delusions, _he_ was near. He couldn't wait to see what was happening though, so he ran like the voice said. Or was he swimming? Peeta couldn't tell. Trees splintered and broke apart before his eyes as the ground turned to slithering snakes and he fell to his face. As everything began to go fuzzy around the edges of his sight he heard a harsh cry of pain and then feet, all around him, maybe his name shouted at him as a verse from the hanging tree echoed serenely near the surface of his terrified mind:

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

Then the woods lifted him up and swallowed him whole as everything went black.


	14. Chapter 14

_Everything was black and Peeta felt the sensation of plummeting through the nothingness. He felt trapped, blind and afraid as the vast empty space consumed him, the sounds of nothing growing into a chorus of maddening sounds._ PEETAAAA _! His name echoed around him, threatening to drive him crazy, like the ceaseless tolling of a bell. He clawed at his skin and felt it peel away like tissue paper, spilling red light out before him. Revealing more terrifying visages of large muttated wasps that flew about, stinging animals like deer and birds, their bodies bursting in bloody green puss. The blossoming tree from the rooftop garden appeared, which held two nooses from one of its branches. Stasson's rough face chasing him through the catacombs beneath the arena, his hammer smashing through walls. There was no escape._

_Everything was fuzzy and nothing would come into focus. A tall shadow crouched over him. His shoulder flared and then he was engulfed in flames. They rose hundreds of feet high and charred the land. Peeta saw in the flames his father burning, reaching out towards him. Then a hand clasped his shoulder, startling him. He pulled away and turned to face the new arrival. Cato stood before him. His throat slit and blood poured from it, flowing down his chest, staining everything it touched. He was crying. Peeta tried to run to him, to hold and comfort him, but the flames swallowed him up as Peeta shouted in vain._

_Then nothingness._

The Games: Day 5

Eventually, after watching an endless parade of people he knew from home die before him he woke. This time the nightmares did not continue. His vision was not besieged by beastly creatures, blood and fire, but instead he found himself under a roof of leaves and branches, the sunlight streaming through and warming his body in patches.

He tried to sit up, but couldn't get completely upright; the canopy built over him was too low and his body was stiff as cardboard. His ankles cracked as he rotated them and rubbed the soreness from his calves. He looked around for signs of who had done this and found a small metal tin opened next to him. He studied it for a minute to find there was a little grey paste left in it that smelled pretty foul. He dropped it and reached for his backpack, also nearby. He looked inside for some food as he was starving. All his crackers and dried fruit were gone; someone had eaten everything there was in his pack. He looked around angrily until he spotted another backpack. Inside this one he found a few pieces of dried jerky and ate it gladly.

When he had sated himself he realized his shoulder did not hurt. He looked at his right arm in disbelief to find clean and unblemished skin. The only thing betraying that it had been burned severely was the pink freshness of the skin itself. He brought his fingers to it and gently brushed it, feeling his own uninterrupted smooth skin. He took another look at the tin and realized it must have contained medicine, to heal him. He felt his neck and cheek next, finding that the sting welts were gone as well.

Eventually, after getting over the shock of waking up to find himself alive, sheltered and healed, he crawled outside of the makeshift tent of twigs and leaves, held together by packed mud and vines. He had no idea where he was located in the forest, if he was near the river, the Cornucopia, or where he had almost died at the hands of the Careers.

Then Peeta’s breath hitched as his eyes settled on a figure seated by a large slab of rock, skinning a small rodent. Cato flayed the skin from the animal with the tip of his sword, working delicately with his hands to keep from soiling the little meat it held.

"Ca-ato…" Peeta was startled by his own voiced, it sounded like the croak of a dying frog. He needed water.

"Peeta! You're awake!" Cato dropped his sword at the sound and ran to him in flash.

He helped Peeta sit and then jumped over to their shelter and back with a canteen filled with water. He held it to Peeta's lips softly.

"Drink slowly. You've been in and out of consciousness for a little over 48 hours now."

Peeta's eyes widened at that fact. It was now 5 days into the games. The fire and tracker jackers had been two mornings ago. He wondered what had happened in the intermediary.

"Th-thanks, I'm good." He pushed the canteen from his lips.

Cato stayed seated across from Peeta, his legs crossed and a look of concern etched across his handsome face.

"What happened? All I remember is returning to find Uphelia and Glimmer dead. Katniss was gone… Katniss! Is she…?" He panicked briefly for her life, but Cato soothed him, stroking his arm.

"She's fine. As far as I know. Her image hasn't been in the nightly reports. I figure she must have Glimmer's bow and arrow though, so she can defend herself."

"And how'd I get here?" Peeta motioned around himself.

"After Katniss dropped the tracker-jackers on us everyone scattered.” Cato replied, still talking in a soothing voice, like he would to comfort a sick child, “While trying to think of a way out of that situation with both of our lives I noticed Katniss was sawing off a branch and figured out what she was doing while everyone was fussing over killing you, so I ran first and avoided being stung. I knew I had to stay healthy to get back to look for you, but before I could return to the spot Stasson was there. We fought and I injured him in the leg, but I couldn't finish him off because I saw you collapse and worried Clove or Marvel would show up and do the job for Stasson. So I scooped you up and ran. After about an hour or so I figured I had gone far enough and you were burning up so I set up camp here."

Peeta couldn't believe Cato had done that for him, he noticed a bruise on Cato's jaw in the yellowing stages of healing and another darker one on his bicep. He had fought with Stasson, risked his own life to keep Peeta alive. It didn't make sense with the betrayal he felt from the first night and witnessing Cato's demeanor and murder of that girl.

Cato continued his story, "I didn't know what to do for you. I saw you had been stung at least four times; you probably had massive amounts of their hallucinatory poison in you. You were moaning and incoherent. So I cleaned your wounds as best I could and built that shelter around you. While I was doing that this little parachute came down with medicine in it, from Haymitch. It healed your burn and also contained a note on how to treat the tracker-jacker stings with some plant. You continued to sleep the whole next day. There were no deaths either, so I figured the others must have still been healing too. We’re probably safe here, the Gamemakers will want to make sure we heal enough to continue to give a good show."

Peeta felt elated, he had sponsors! He had to have really rich ones or lots of them, because medicine like that had to be expensive. He wasn't alone in this. Katniss had his back, Haymitch was working for him and now, maybe Cato was here for him too.

But then Peeta felt anger overcome him and it demanded answers.

"What was that bullshit the first night then? I saw you, all of you. When that girl from 8 started her fire. I heard her get assaulted before you killed her. What about all that stuff you said on the roof?" Peeta was overwhelmed by his emotions, by everything that happened the past few days and he felt on the verge of tears.

"I- Peeta, how do you know this?" Cato looked shocked, he had no clue how Peeta could know that. Peeta’s stomach churned; there was no denial in his words. He had done it.

Peeta explained furiously how he had been right by them, camouflaged in the hallowed trunk of a tree near the girl's campsite.

Cato's face expressed deep regret and alarm while he tried to explain unevenly.

"Peeta—you don't… We—they were hunting tributes like Careers do the first night. I had to go with them until I found you, I couldn't risk them stumbling upon you before I could get to you... And then Stasson wanted to play with that girl before he killed her so, so I ended her life, to spare her. I didn't enjoy killing her or anyone before her for that matter, trust me, but there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't let Stasson know my motives so I acted like a competitor for the Alpha spot. I truly am sorry you had to see that Peeta. It’s not something I wanted you to see me do."

He reached out and touched Peeta’s wrist, who tensed. He wasn't sure what to do about this. It was the explanation he had hoped for, but couldn't think of on his own. Yet he still felt angry. He took a few deep breaths and held back the tears that threatened to spill forth.

"I just need to have a minute to comprehend everything. So much has happened."

"I understand. But know when I say I was fighting to find you, I mean it.” Cato nodded his head in sympathy, “After your confession the night before the interviews and then what you said to Caesar I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you, us, and came to the decision I couldn't allow anything to happen to you. You were so brave for sharing that with the audience and I'll admit it scared me at first, especially what people might think. But then I realized you were more important to me than other people's petty thoughts. I will protect you until I die. I told you I want to die me, not the man my father wants me to be. You make me, _me_ ; a better me."

Peeta's head spun, Cato was telling him he would sacrifice his own life for Peeta. Peeta let out a garbled sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"You idiot, Cato! I told you I was fighting for your life first."

Then he pulled Cato's face towards his. He knew this was the moment when every television in Panem would switch to the image of them and see confirmation that this man, Cato, was the guy he had developed feelings for and that they were in fact returned. They probably all suspected after seeing him nurse Peeta back to health over the past two days, but now suspicions would be confirmed as they finally reunited.

Their noses met first and they both paused. Cato's warm breath ghosted over Peeta's lips and he licked them to clear away the dry cracked layer of skin that had developed. Then Cato let out a whimper of need and Peeta connected their lips, kissing tenderly. Knowing that the world was watching only made the moment more surreal. Peeta had not realized the longing that had built up inside him, it had been almost a week since he had last kissed Cato and that was far too long. He would make sure he got enough kisses to make up for that and then some.

The volatile feelings in Peeta's stomach threatened to erupt from him as their kiss lingered on, tongues entwining and lips embracing like the meeting of two long lost souls.

He couldn't believe that he was here, alive after everything and with Cato. The Career Tribute from 2 who was nothing like what usually volunteered from the Capitol's lap dog district. A man who was sweeter and kinder and more thoughtful than any man he'd met before. The blood-lusty Career only an act to appease a demanding father, hiding all his potential underneath, guarded closely.

Cato eventually pulled free of Peeta's clinging grasp and laughed.

"Well I guess the cat's out of the bag now."

"Good, let them see you're mine, Cato potato." Peeta beamed.

Cato chuckled and hugged Peeta close to his chest, resting his chin on Peeta's head, "I'm yours, babe. I'm all yours."

They spent the rest of the evening together in joyous reunion. Cato finished preparing the other rodents and cooked them over a small fire. Peeta devoured the flesh from the small animals ravenously, careful not to swallow any of the tiny bones. He knew he must be quite the disgusting sight, but it was no matter. Cato was here with him. They were alive and healthy in the Hunger Games. Tomorrow he would worry about what that all meant.

Once satiated Peeta found he was actually tired again, which surprised him given how long he had been unconscious. He tried to stifle his yawn, but Cato caught it and ushered him back into the small shelter with gusto.

"You may have been unconscious, but that doesn't mean you got rest!"

"But I don't want to sleep yet." Peeta pouted.

"No dice. Now lets get you settled in this sleeping bag." Cato gave a stern shake of the head.

"Fine, but you're settling in with me. If I must rest you will too."

"Someone's got to keep watch." Cato disagreed.

"Don't rest then, just stay with me?" He looked at Cato with his most earnest puppy dog eyes. "You can't refuse me after what I’ve been through."

"Oh, fine, but you only get to play that card once." He warned, although not begrudgingly.

He settled down next to Peeta with an exasperated sigh, but Peeta could tell Cato didn't really mind. He was just putting on a show. Peeta proceeded to zip up the surprisingly spacious sleeping bag up around them and then snuggle in close to Cato. He couldn't have been more at peace in this moment, even given the terrible circumstances that surrounded them, threatening to tear it all apart. Cato put his arm around Peeta and rubbed his hand up and down Peeta's back soothingly.

Except for Peeta it ended up having an unintended effect. He was getting aroused. The massaging pressure up and down his back simultaneously relaxing and exciting as Cato's hand ghosted down just over the curvature of his bottom. He pulled in closer to Cato, beginning to rub his own hand up and down Cato's chest. Feeling his sculptured body, the grooves of his abs, and his firm nipples, which got a sharp intake of breath from Cato.

"Peeta…" He sounded warningly.

“Mhh?” Peeta feigned innocence, but continued to trail his fingers up and down lightly over Cato’s chest, until eventually he slipped them under Cato’s shirt and felt the smooth hot skin covering Cato’s well-muscled torso. He was extremely hard now and his mind was getting hazy with lust.

Cato finally gave in and slipped his own hand down to cup Peeta’s ass, groping it firmly as he used his other hand to pull Peeta’s face towards his. His hazel eyes burned with a blistering passion as they locked on Peeta’s soulful blue ones. Peeta pushed forward to close the distance and connected their lips. He bit down lightly on Cato’s bottom lip and then pulled it in to suck on while Cato let out a pleasant groan.

Peeta thought briefly to the cameras all over the forest that were probably capturing this display. But he knew if they got any more heated than kisses and light touching they would move on to something else. The Capitol citizens probably loved when players got sexual, but the Gamemakers always broke away before things got too indecent, at least for the Districts. Which made Peeta thankful because he wasn’t sure he could stop himself, even if he knew everyone back in District 12 would be watching utterly scandalized.

Peeta struggled slightly in the confines of the sleeping bag to right himself and then sit atop Cato as they continued to kiss. He ground his hard member into Cato’s pulsing cock and they both sighed in ecstasy at the contact. Peeta swiped his tongue over Cato’s perfectly straight teeth, memorizing the contours of his mouth as he slid one hand between Cato and himself. He undid the buckle on his trousers slowly and pushed them down. He then did the same for Cato, who opened his eyes and stared intensely at Peeta, watching, waiting to see what his next move would be.

Cato’s eyes practically rolled back into his head with a long groan as Peeta wrapped his hand around Cato’s particularly large member. It was leaking profusely and slick for Peeta. He stroked up and down once, tentatively. This was the first time he had ever held another mans penis in his hand. He wanted to never forget the moment. He held a tight but pleasurable grasp on it while he began to stroke with more fervor, learning to appreciate Cato’s heft and feel in his hand. Cato clutched Peeta by the hair on the back of his head tightly and pulled him forward, mashing their faces together in sloppy, wet kisses. 

A particularly sinful whimper left Cato’s mouth when Peeta removed his hand. The confines of the sleeping bag were getting scorching hot and their shirts were beginning to stain with sweat from the exertion and arousal, only contributing to the sexual musk permeating the air in their small shelter that drove them onward. 

Cato and Peeta both broke their kiss to moan as Peeta pushed down against Cato, their rock hard members meeting for the first time with out a barrier. Peeta rutted against Cato in need. He had never needed someone so much before and he couldn’t understand it. But that sensation was building and all other thoughts fled his mind as Cato inserted his hand between them to grip both their hard cocks and stroke feverishly. They both made immoral sounds as they connected sweaty foreheads, staring into the others eyes, noses brushing, as Cato brought them both to a searing completion.

 “Unnggg, Peeta!” Cato cried out as he spilled his seed over his hand and stomach, Peeta following seconds behind with a breathless cry of his own.

 Peeta then collapsed atop Cato’s large frame, completely spent.

"Okay, now I'm ready to sleep." Peeta commented with contentment.

Cato barked a loud laugh as he kissed the top of Peeta's blonde locks. Peeta felt the spark of a smile then mumbled tiredly into Cato's chest unintelligibly.

"What was that?" Cato asked.

Peeta lifted his head to speak more clearly.

"Night, Cato potato. Thanks for saving me."

As Peeta drifted off to sleep atop Cato he was held close in his strong arms, stroking Peeta's head tenderly.

"Always. Always, for you Peeta."


	15. Chapter 15

The Games: Day 6

Peeta awakened the next day healed, full, happy and satisfied in Cato's arms. He never felt better, like being reborn. Except for the fact that he was in the Hunger Games. But he ignored that little factoid and instead turned in Cato's embrace so that he was now facing him and he remembered the intense moment they shared last night. It looked like they both had lived through the night with nobody keeping watch. He smiled widely then studied Cato's handsome face closely, his smooth skin with a now fading bruise under his strong jaw line, his tender eyelashes and adorable nose. Yes, Peeta thought his nose was adorable. He kissed it gently.

Cato's eyes fluttered open and then he grinned and pulled Peeta in close.

"Hey good lookin'."

"Hi." Peeta replied, bashful at being caught. Then his stomach grumbled as if he hadn't eaten in days, which wasn’t technically true, but he had only one meal last night, the first in the past three days so it kind of counted.

"My thoughts exactly. Lets see if we have any food left. I think I have some jerky…" Cato laughed.

He pulled himself up and free from the sleeping bag and reached for his backpack, but looked confused.

"Oops. I think I ate all of that when I woke up yesterday. Sorry…" Peeta bit his lip.

"Don't worry about it Peeta. You must have been staving when you woke. We will just have to go hunt something. I need to reset some of my snares anyways." Cato sat his pack back down.

So Cato and Peeta got up and crawled out of their shelter. Cato slapped Peeta's ass on the way out, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"I couldn't help myself. That pert little ass was just begging for it." Cato shrugged.

"Uh huh, sure, Cato." Peeta stared at him with incredulous.

Peeta then started packing his backpack up, rolling the sleeping bag into it, while Cato fetched his sword.

"What are ya doing?" He asked.

"Just packing up some of our stuff. I just don't trust leaving it here all alone." Peeta slung the backpack up and over his shoulder as he replied.

"Ah, smart. I'll just leave my pack hidden in the shelter. I'd prefer nothing weighing me down out there, you know… if we're attacked."

Peeta agreed and then fell in line behind Cato as he led them to where he had laid one of his snares. After about fifteen minutes they found his first snare had been triggered, but there was nothing in it. Either another animal came along and ate it or it escaped.

Cato carefully reset the snare and then they moved on to look for one of the others he had set. Peeta moved up next to Cato and slipped his hand into Cato's larger one. They fit together perfectly, as if they had been crafted just to simply hold one another. They walked hand-in-hand through the woods, the sword dangling from Cato's free hand.

"What is your sister like?" Peeta asked out of sudden curiosity to know more about Cato and his life back home, like his sister. He had only mentioned her once, but seemed to love her dearly. Cato grinned at the mention of her.

"Oh she is a little wild child. Her name is Cassadine and she can get away with anything. She has brilliant red hair and a fierce attitude to go along with it. She's only 10, but I just know she is going to grow into a strong and confident woman. No one's going to be able to mess with her… She has already learned how to expertly con our parents. She could get away with murder and I'd still love her for it."

Peeta wished he could meet her, but knew the chance would never come. It made him sad for a moment, but then he thought of what Cato must be going through. Knowing he may never see his sister again, the only family he had ever truly loved. Peeta wished he knew true familial love like that.

"I love her more than anything else and it is the only thing I know I'm going to miss about life back home. It kills me to know I'll never get to see her become the amazing woman I know she’ll be. But I hope, if she's watching this, she can stay proud of me."

"I know she already is. You're a better man than most Cato Ryves." Peeta squeezed Cato's hand.

They came upon another snare set by Cato and this one actually proved bountiful, with a fat rabbit inside of the netting Cato had created. Peeta's mouth watered just thinking about how it could provide for them the rest of the day. Cato, after breaking the neck of the rabbit, handed it to Peeta.

“Sorry little guy,” Peeta whispered to the rabbit.

Peeta slung the bag off his back and opened it to stuff the dead rabbit inside. As he did this Cato laid his sword down and crouched to reset the snare. Peeta studied the sword closely. It was so clean, betraying all the blood that had been spilt with it. He knew Cato must have killed more at the bloodbath, but he knew better than to ask about it. It was just something that had to be done and he had accepted that. He had accepted what Cato was trying to do for him, for them. He was fighting for Peeta's life and he would have done the same thing if in his shoes he realized. He felt a swelling of pride in him as he looked over to Cato. He was beginning to realize what all of this meant, the feelings coursing through him, what he couldn't begin to process last night in the heat of the moment.

But then suddenly his eyes moved to the bushes ahead of Cato, there had been a subtle movement drawing his attention. He had a feeling as if something was about to take place. But before he could do anything, Cato was standing up to move over and replace the counterbalance on the trigger of the snare when it happened.

A feral looking boy jumped from the bushes, his clothing tattered and worn down, his pale skin smeared with dirt, blood and sweat, a large stick filed to a nasty point in his hand. He charged straight at Cato, who looked up in surprise, weaponless and with no time to react.

"NOO!" Peeta screamed as the guy rushed straight into Cato with a wild howl.

Cato crumpled over, a horrible bellow erupting from his lips as the guy pushed the end of his hand made spear into Cato's chest.

Peeta felt as if time had slowed to a stop, he saw Cato fall to his knees, and then heard a snap as the spear broke, freeing Cato to fall all the way to the ground, motionless. The male tribute looked startled, like he hadn't expected it to work. He held the broken and bloodied spear in his hands and then looked over at Peeta.

"CATO!" Peeta cried out in rage.

Then before he knew what he was doing he had picked up the very sword he had been studying for it's absence of blood and charged the tribute.

The tribute had a laughable look of surprise on his face as Peeta ran at him. He didn't know how to use a sword, but he held it tightly with both hand and swung, knocking the broken spear from the boy's hands with ease and then lunged forward, pushing the sword into the tributes gut viciously and with out hesitation. It was disturbing how easily it entered the boy's flesh, like he was cutting through butter. It sliced through uninhibited. He felt hot blood spill out and over his hands as the tribute let out a guttural cry of pain.

Peeta joined in on the cry with his own grief as he twisted the blade in the boy's stomach furiously. The man coughed, blood spraying forth over Peeta's face. Peeta blinked and stared into the eyes of the man he was killing and felt like he had been electrocuted, they were so full of terror and pain; it tore at Peeta's heart. He jumped back, pulling the blade out with him in a sickening slick sound. The guy crumpled to the ground.

The sword, still held out before him, shook violently. Then he heard a grunt behind him and he swung around, ready to face another tribute, but only found Cato quaking while trying to push himself up, but unable to and collapsing back against the ground with a distressing groan.

"Cato, oh god, oh god!"

Peeta rushed down to Cato, keeping a tight grip on the sword, while he used the other to help roll Cato over onto his back. He was horrified to find Cato's shirt entirely drenched in blood. Deeply embedded in the skin below his right pectoral muscle stuck the tip of the wooden spear made by the other tribute, broken and jagged, dripping blood, Cato's blood. It was a piece of wood about four inches in diameter and god knew how deeply imbedded.

Peeta gaped at the wound and wanted to scream. His hand fluttered about Cato's chest, unsure what to do or where it was okay to touch him.

"Cato, Cato, please…"

"Hey, hey… you think this can—ah—stop me?" Cato lifted his head and smiled weakly at Peeta, his voice hoarse and broken. It stabbed at Peeta like the spear that impaled Cate. Peeta wasn't convinced by the tough guy act he was putting on, but went along with it, sniffling slightly.

"Ye-yeah, of course. Um, I think I need to get this tip out of you. Then I can try bandaging it and we can move you back to our camp, o-okay?"

Cato nodded his head, "Yeah, sounds—uhhh—like a good idea."

Peeta then heard another cough behind him and froze. He had forgotten about the other tribute, there had yet to be any cannon fire signaling his death. He whipped around in his spot, sword pointed at where he had left the guy to bleed to death.

The tribute was still there, lying in a growing pool of his blood, his stomach torn asunder by Peeta, he thought he could see intestines. He couldn't believe he had done that. But before he could help Cato he had to be sure they were safe and he couldn't let this guy suffer. So he pulled himself up solemnly. He hated the Capitol and the Gamemakers for making him do this, for making them all do this, for having put just kids in here and forcing them to off one another.

Peeta stood over the tribute and was startled to find his dark blue eyes focused back at him. Peeta held the contact, trying to imbue the dying tribute with a sense of calm. It would all be over soon for him. In a way he was lucky, just not lucky enough.

Peeta lifted the sword over the center of the tributes chest, right above his heart, and held it their until his hands steadied. He knew all of Panem was about to see him finish his first kill. He wished he could keep them from seeing this. They had no right. While never breaking eye contact, he brought the sword down with a forceful push. It sunk deep into the other tribute as he let out a garbled cry, blood bubbling from his mouth. Then his head fell to the side and Peeta watched as the light left his dark blue eyes.

The cannon fired with finality, never to be undone.

Peeta withdrew the blade and returned to Cato shaking. Cato was watching him with only a caring look on his face, even though he had just been horribly brutalized.

"P-Peeta, you did good. There was nothing more you could have done. Know—ah—that, okay?"

Peeta simply nodded as he handed Cato a thick twig. He was still focusing on Peeta instead of his own predicament of course. But Peeta was focused on the task at hand as he bit his lip. He wasn't sure he should do this, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Bite down on this. I'm going to remove the tip. This needs to be cleaned."

Cato put the stick in his mouth and clamped down tightly, grunting out, "Okay," and then squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Peeta worked to get a tight grip on the tip that protruded from Cato's chest, it was slick with blood and splintered, making it tough to grasp. He finally got a firm grasp and ripped it free as quickly as he could with out warning. Cato screamed out hoarsely in pain. The wound immediately started gushing blood. Luckily the tip had only been imbedded a few inches, but it was still a very worrisome wound and who knew what type of damage it wrought internally. Peeta quickly ran to his backpack, fighting back the suffocating panic, and threw out the contents until he found the bandages he knew were in there.

He opened the water canteen first and tried to clean out the wound as best he could after washing the other tributes blood from his own stained hands. But the wound kept filling with Cato's blood as soon as he cleaned it away. So he pressed the large bandage against Cato's chest and held the pressure there forcefully as he tapped it down. Then he helped Cato sit up slowly so he could wrap gauze around Cato's body tightly for more pressure. As he was doing this he felt tears start to fall from his eyes and roll over his filthy cheeks. He saw one that ran off his nose and landed on the gauze. It stained the gauze red, having picked up the tributes blood on his face as it rolled off.

Cato noticed it too and tried to grip Peeta's arm. Peeta hated himself for that. He needed to be strong for Cato now, not be crying over having taken a life. So he shook his head clear, wiping his face free of the last of his tears, smearing blood across his arms, and resolving not to think of it again. Now it was time to get Cato back to their camp. They needed food and maybe he could find that plant to make a slave for cuts that helped stop infections.

"Okay Cato, you think you can move? I'll support you."

Cato nodded bravely. But in the end, he had barely enough strength with Peeta's help to get to his feet, let alone move. So Peeta slung the backpack on, attached the sword to his belt, and then scooped Cato up in his arms. He could carry him. He carried the flour sacks at the bakery like it was nothing and so he could bear Cato's weight.

After forty minutes of struggling through the forest he found their campsite and froze. It was trashed. Someone had found it. He quickly readjusted Cato in his arms as he regained consciousness at Peeta's startled breath and looked around.

"Peeta… we've got to go elsewh..." He trailed off as pain overcame him.

Peeta quickly marched back the way they came and then stopped. Where would they go? He was beginning to panic, his throat burning with bile and his minds eye replaying the image of Cato being pierced in the chest. Cato was fading fast in his arms and his arms and thighs strained from the weight of Cato. They needed some place safe, secluded and secure so Cato could rest and he could heal. He wasn't going to pick another spot in the exposed woods where they could be easily ambushed. Then he remembered it, the outcropping of rocks by the river. There was a little cave below it that could only be entered through the river, which would be perfect. Anyone would alert them if they tried to enter the cave when wading through the water.

It was starting to get dark and Peeta worried that he had chosen the wrong direction to head along the river when they had finally come upon it. His arms went from burning to numb after carrying Cato for so long. He was now just a dead weight and his feet struggled to move one foot in front of the other. He couldn't take much more. Neither of them could. They needed shelter and rest now. Luckily he spotted charred trees on the other side of the bank, where the Gamemaker fire had raged and he knew he was close. He could see the bend in the river and finally he found the outcropping of rocks and the cave. A wave of relief flooded his exhausted limbs and gave him the last remnants of his strength to carry Cato the little bit further to their new home.

He helped settle Cato into the moist and somewhat chilly cave, setting him up with the sleeping bag and working to re-bandage his wound, which had bled through long ago, soaking Peeta's hands in blood for the second time today. Cato was pale from the loss of blood. He knew he better get him some food soon.

"Cato I'm going to be right outside this cave. I've got to cook this rabbit. You need something to eat."

Cato grumbled incoherently and Peeta left. He started a small fire, sword in hand, daring anyone to come to the smoke and light he would cast. _I'm not going to let him die,_ Peeta thought as he dared anyone nearby to try him tonight.

Then his mind wondered, like it had been recently. To a place of which he couldn't understand why he kept going. The blossoming tree from the rooftop garden perched itself atop his minds-eye as it had become synonymous with The Hanging Tree. Another verse hummed through his thoughts with out consent:

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where I told you to run so we'd both be free._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

The song kept cropping up and he wondered why it stuck with him so? He knew when his mother beat him for singing it he could never forget it like she demanded. It was as if with each strike of the rolling pin she embedded in him a line of the song. But after closer examination he remembered where he learned the song in the first place. His father had once been in love with Katniss' mother—he knew it by the way he caught his father looking at her on the few occasions she came to the shop—it was probably why he was so resigned from his life with them. He never really wanted it. Katniss' father had died in a terrible mining accident, or so the Capitol said. Peeta remembered hearing his father sing the song softly the morning of the funeral and his mother turning into a mad woman, sobbing and clawing at him. Peeta was too young to understand what was happening, the funerals or why a song would make her act that way. The simple song of a man hung for murder and calling to his lover to join him, maybe a little morose for children, but nothing to inspire such a strong reaction. Then when he repeated it one afternoon and she thrashed him, he learned it was illegal and treasonous and that the men in the mine used to sing it.

While he was roasting the rabbit a parachute gently glided down to land next to him. He looked at it in surprise, another gift from his sponsor? He reached for the large silver container quickly hoping life saving medicine would be inside it as all other thoughts cleared from his mind like birds taking flight. But he was promptly disappointed to find only hot soup. _Well at least it is something I can give Cato, probably easier for him to eat than rabbit right now_.

There was also a small note from Haymitch attached. Peeta read it in confusion; _be more open._

_More open?_ Peeta wondered angrily, _what on earth is he talking about? Cato could die from his wound and he wants me to what? Open up about my feelings? What good would that do?_

Peeta returned to the inside of their new home while the rabbit roasted, miffed by Haymitch. But he quickly brushed aside his disappointment as he kneeled beside Cato and put on his best motherly persona. He touched Cato’s forehead lightly, which was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Cato's temperature was burning up.

"Cato, babe? We got a gift. Some soup. Think you can eat it?"

"That sounds great." Cato croaked, opening his eyes blearily.

After Peeta helped Cato into a sitting position he began to delicately feed him spoonfuls of the soup and it actually seemed to bring some of the color back to Cato's drained cheeks, as if he were blushing. He wondered if maybe it's more than soup. But it was obviously not enough to heal the hole in Cato's chest, which seemed to now be causing him labored breaths. Peeta kept strong while caring for Cato, denying the fear access to his facial expressions, while it laid siege to his insides like an invasion of insurgents.

Later that night, after Peeta ate some of the cooked rabbit and built more camouflage around the entrance to the cave he settled in next to Cato, stroking his sweat soaked hair. The death recap had told him the guy he killed today was from 10 and it was quite startling to see the boys image reflected back at him from the sky, clean and alive, lacking the feral quality from earlier.

Cato let out a slight moan and Peeta wasn't sure if it was a painful or grateful one. He hated this. He felt completely helpless as he watched Cato battle for his life. _Why did that stupid tribute have to decide to attack us?_ _What was he thinking? It was two against one, why would he even bother?_ But Peeta had to leave those thoughts behind because it only brought vivid flashes before his eyes of the tributes cold dead face or the feeling of hot blood flowing over his hands as the sword sunk into soft flesh. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to dispel the ghostly sensation of gore covering them.

Peeta shuddered and mentally slapped himself. He would not think of it again, he had promised. So he scooted in closer to Cato, spooning him from behind like Cato had done the previous night. He would be there for him. He wasn't going to leave him. He was going to save him, because Cato meant something more to him.

"I'm so sorry. I said I would protect you and I failed… I will find a way to fix this, to fix you. I promise…" And then Peeta choked up because he knew. He knew what he had been feeling earlier today. They had known each other for eleven days now and Peeta wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but he couldn't deny the strong connection they had forged in such a short time. He understood what he had been feeling all along now, the crazy swirl of emotions finally discernable in him as he lay holding Cato, possibly for the last time tonight. It was like the sun finally found a way through the heavy dark clouds of his mind, bringing to light the meaning for him that had been patiently waiting all along.

He put his mouth to Cato's ear and opened up, "I love you, Cato Ryves, I love you. Please do not leave me."


	16. Chapter 16

The Games: Day 7

Peeta woke up along with the morning songs of the Mockingjays as the sun began to rise. He fingered the small pin Riece had given him, clinging to the memory of why he had volunteered in the first place. He was still tired having slept so lightly and inconsistently through the night because of Cato, worried Cato may slip from him without warning. When the Mockingjays started their intricately memorized songs he decided he might as well start the day too.

Cato's body was still shivering from the fever, the sleeping bag wet with his sweat, and he had bled through his bandages again. There were no more fresh dressings to wrap Cato's wound in, so he took the first pair of soiled bandages and Cato's blood drenched shirt and headed out of the cave to the mouth of the river. He fingered the dried black blood on the bandage and wondered how much more Cato had left in him. If he didn't bleed to death then that fever would probably kill him. Peeta felt completely lost. Was he really going to be forced to watch the man he loved die before his eyes? He couldn't handle that, he knew his limits in this game and that right there was the line in the sand.

Peeta watched stoically as he rubbed out Cato's encrusted blood from the bandage and shirt. The blood seeped into the water around Peeta's hands, tinting it pink. He had seen too much blood since these games had started. He never knew how much a person could bleed until now and he wished he could forget the knowledge. Peeta wanted to hate the boy who did this to Cato, the feral tribute from 10. But he couldn't because he knew the kid was only trying to fight for his own life in a terrible game created by the Capitol. They were all being punished for the sins of the parent.

Suddenly he heard the anthem begin to play, which was odd. They never did that in the morning, only for the death report at night.

Peeta trained his ears on Claudius Templesmith's voice as it reverberated throughout the arena:

"Good morning tributes. We have prepared a feast of sorts for you. Something each of you is gravely in need of. You will find it arranged at the Cornucopia at sundown tonight in backpacks with the name upon them of who needs it most. For some of you this will be your last chance, think carefully before you turn it down."

Peeta stood up, his mind racing over what Claudius had meant. _Something each of you is gravely in need of? Your last chance…_ _Did he mean medicine, for Cato?_ Peeta had to jump and catch Cato's bandage before they floated away. He wrung it dry a few times and then hurried back inside the cave to Cato.

"No, Peeta, no— _cough_ —Promise me you wont go to that feast!"

He was not surprised the announcement had woken Cato nor by his protests. But this was it, the chance he had to save Cato, to keep his promise.

"Cato, it could be exactly what you need!" Peeta countered and he couldn’t keep the frustrated edge from his voice.

Cato shook his head, the only thing he could move with out too much pain and show his objection.

"No Peeta! I told you I w-would do everything I could to keep _you_ alive. Th-this is just another ploy by the Gamemakers—" He had to pause as he coughed violently, only furthering Peeta's determination, "To pit the tributes against each other. I'll be fine and I will _not_ allow you to risk your life for me."

"Cato! What do you expect me to do? Just sit twiddling my thumbs as you bleed to death or this fever steals you away from me?" Peeta stomped his foot with a sob.

"I'll follow you... If you go, I will leave this cave and try to stop you, even if it kills me." Cato closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"You foolish, stupid…" Peeta gaped at Cato.

"What? Asshole? Fucker?” Cato raged, “Man who risked his life for you? Love of your life? Well I'm not worth it."

Peeta felt like he had been punched. He had heard him. Last night, when he opened his heart to Cato, thinking he was unconscious. And now he was throwing those words back in his face. As if that would stop him from going on this quest. He knew what Cato was trying to do, but he wouldn't let his spiteful words discourage him. He could try and say all the mean spirited things he wanted, but he would not change Peeta's mind. He was going to do this; he was going to get what Cato needed gravely.

Peeta took a deep inhale, "Cato, please…" He felt his eyes water and wanted to tear at them, why did they always betray him so?

Cato held up his left arm gingerly towards Peeta, beckoning him and Peeta could not ignore him. So he settled in next to Cato's opened arm.

"Peeta, I swear, this is not going to kill me."

Peeta just snuggled in closer to Cato's embrace, knowing better. He was putting on a brave front, but he could feel the shivers Cato struggled to hold back and the ache in his voice. Even this fight was wearing him down. So he changed the topic.

"Cato I need to change your dressing. It's bled through again."

"O-okay. But you believe me, right? I'm going to make it through this." Cato looked at Peeta and kissed him fervently. The kiss, like one a desperate man on a ledge gave, did nothing to instill confidence in Peeta.

"Of course, Cato, of course. Now no more kisses until I change this."

He then removed the old bandage and had to bite back a terrible groan that threatened to emit from his mouth. Cato's wound had gotten much worse over the night. It obviously had yet to clot as blood ran down his paled chest. But now around the ragged edges of his torn flesh the skin was discolored and he knew that meant only terrible things. Infection and with the wound so close to his heart it wouldn't take long for it kill him.

But he didn't let on to Cato what he saw, so he just bandaged him quickly and then said he was going to make them some breakfast as he went back outside, giving Cato one swift kiss to the cheek. Cato didn't protest, still in a weakened state from their argument.

He only requested that Peeta return soon.

Once out by the river again Peeta paced and kicked rocks from the shallow water heatedly. He could wait until Cato passed out, but even then there was still a chance he would wake up and try to come after him. And Peeta had so little time, he was probably just under a days walk from the Cornucopia and if he hoped to make it there in time for the feast he would need to leave now. He waded across the river to the other side and looked around for anything that could help him, hoping the woods would offer him a solution.

With a soft fluttering sound the solution came to him in the form of another gift from his sponsors. Peeta couldn't believe it. He opened the small container to find a tiny glass vile filled with a clear sweet smelling liquid. He knew what it was instantly, sleeping syrup. He often worried his mother was addicted to the substance, but cared little about it. If she was asleep she couldn't hurt him.

But he couldn't comprehend it. Why were his sponsors sending him these things? Why would they be helping Peeta with Cato? If they wanted him to win wouldn't they rather just sit by and wait for Cato to die of his wounds, instead of sending soup and sleeping potions. And then what Haymitch had said about opening up. Something was going on outside the games, but he didn't know what.

So he turned his mind from those thoughts and made a small jam in the container the vile had come in with wild berries from the riverbank, they looked like blueberries, but were cherry red in color. He mixed in the syrup and hoped its overpowering sweetness wouldn't alert Cato to what he was consuming before it was too late. There was enough to keep Cato under for a full day, exactly what he needed.

"Cato, I brought you a treat. I found some sugarberries by the river. I made a little jam for you. I figured it would be easier on your stomach than gamey rabbit."

Cato had thrown the sleeping bag off his body, probably too hot from the fever to be encased in it any longer.

"That's sweet of you, Peeta." Cato tried to crack a grin, but it just looked more like a sickened grimace.

Peeta smiled at the effort anyway, then put a spoonful of it to his mouth, not wanting to wait a moment longer.

"Well I figured you could use a treat, here."

Cato nodded, seeming to enjoy the sweetness of the berries on his tongue as he rolled it around his mouth. Peeta gave him another large scoop before he had time to really register all that he tasted.

Only a little was left of the jam before he commented, "It tastes familiar. Like I've had these before…"

"They grow in the wild all over. Someone's probably made them for you back home. We make a sugarberry turnover at the bakery when in season." Peeta shrugged noncommittally.

Cato took the last spoonful and his eyes were already starting to droop with fatigue.

"No, I've…Peeta," he gaped in shock, but it was too late. He had consumed all the sleep syrup. "Sleep syru…" He didn't get to finish his sentence. Peeta's hand clamped over his mouth, forcing him to keep down the medicine. Cato's eyes flared wildly in vain, then closed as sleep overcame him rapidly, like a baby fitfully fighting its own sleepiness and loosing.

Peeta quickly ate some of the left over rabbit, packing the last leg and thigh for later in his journey, then took Cato's sword, and planted a soft kiss to Cato's lips, leaving one of the water canteens next to him.

"I'm sorry Cato, but you know you need this. I made a promise to keep you alive too and I wont break it." Then Peeta exited the cave.

He made sure to camouflage the entrance of the cave well with rocks, mud and shrubbery, before making off towards the Cornucopia.

The trek back to the Cornucopia was a long one fraught with many emotions. The sun beat down on the path before Peeta. It's light streaming through the leaves, casting about shadows that gnawed at Peeta's confidence like termites, weakening the very infrastructure of his mind.

Peeta had yet to go back to the place where it had all started—the games. Where blood probably still stained the earth from the eleven tributes that had been slaughtered. He wondered what Katniss could need desperately and he hoped she wasn't horribly injured too. He had not seen her for so long now and he worried how he was going to protect her and Cato as their numbers dwindled. Who would remain at the end of these games? It was a question that he wracked his brain for an answer and could find none. It was a bridge he would have to cross when he came to it. But maybe if he could find Katniss at this 'feast' they could reunite, become a team again. There were still three Careers out there to fight against, Stasson, Clove and Marvel along with Thresh, Rue and the girl from 5.

After alternating between running, jogging and walking, Peeta found the field laid out before him containing the golden Cornucopia. He hung back among some denser bushes as he surveyed the area. Peeta was confused by what he saw. All the supplies that had been set up at the beginning of the games for their use were destroyed. Someone had set fire to everything. Plastic was melted to the earth and tinged the air with its sharp scent. Splotches of blood still stained patches of the grass a dark red.

Someone must have wanted to sabotage the Career's advantage with all the supplies they usually reaped by charging into the bloodbath and securing the Cornucopia. He wondered when this could have gone down, it had to be after he reunited with Cato or he would have mentioned it.

He scanned the edges of the field to see if the Careers continued to use the area near the Cornucopia as a base camp, but he didn't see anything. He assumed whoever had set fire to their supplies had drawn the Careers into the woods as this campsite was of no more use to them. Which was good for everyone since they wouldn't be in control of the Cornucopia and the feast when it started, giving everyone a fair chance to retrieve their goods.

The sun was slowly setting to the west, behind the golden Cornucopia and the wheat field. Its beams reflecting off the metallic surface sent dazzling rays across the battlefield. It was almost time for the feast to begin, but there was nothing at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Was it really all just a ruse to lead the remaining tributes together for one last epic fight? And Peeta had yet to spot any of the other tributes, which was worrisome. They were all probably hiding too, waiting to strike. He would have to be fast.

The sun was now below the field, having officially set, but it still continued to cast a beautiful hue of colors across the sky in shades of pink, purple and orange. That is when Peeta heard an odd mechanic sound and then up from the ground directly in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia a long metal table rose, with seven backpacks of varying sizes atop it. Each one had a name in bold across it, STASSON, MARVEL, and CLOVE's packs were the largest. There was one that said RUE on it, but it was quite small. Next to hers was the one Peeta needed desperately, a small black bag with the name CATO across it. None for Katniss, which was a small victory in itself, it meant she wouldn’t have to join this fight and she was healthy.

Peeta looked around, cursing himself for not having a better plan than just running out into the open and hoping to snatch the bag before someone else caught him. That's when he noticed a bolt of red as the girl from 5 ran out from inside the Cornucopia and snatched her medium sized backpack before darting off into the woods. _Shit,_ Peeta thought, _she's a smart girl! Why didn't I think of that?_

His feet dug into the ground as he prepared to bolt out for Cato's bag when he froze. Katniss had just run out from a spot further down in the woods from him. She was sprinting fast and seemed in good health. There was no bag with her name, so Peeta couldn’t understand why she was even here. He glanced around and noticed Clove running full tilt after Katniss. Peeta dove into action, pulling the sword out of his belt and charging into the fray.

Clove had one of her knives ready in her hand and was taking aim at Katniss, who was still a few feet from the bags. Clove was going to pierce her right in the back before she even had a chance to reach the bags.

"Katniss, duck!"

Katniss threw herself to the ground with out question as Clove hurled the knife and it sailed way past Katniss, gleaning off the side of the Cornucopia. Peeta's shout had disrupted her. She turned around to face the new arrival, but Peeta was on her before she had time to draw another knife. He used the pommel of the sword to bash her across the face. He wasn't ready to kill again, but he could take her out of the picture for now. Clove fell to the ground bruised and unconscious.

He looked back up to see Katniss had Rue’s backpack and was facing Peeta, her bow and arrow strung and aimed directly at him.

"Katniss?"

Fear coursed through Peeta briefly as he flinched, having no time to react to Katniss' treachery. Except the arrow flew right past him and he heard a startling cry of pain behind him. He swung around with Cato's sword held high to find Stasson collapsing to the ground some ten feet away from him, an arrow protruding from his muscular thigh where it looked like Cato had cut him before. It was probably mostly healed by now, but the arrow brought him down hard, reopening an old wound. Katniss had aimed well.

He turned back and ran towards the table, grabbing Cato's bag and thanking Katniss. Marvel was now out on the field running to Stasson who was screaming, his jagged face contorted in fury.

"Kill them!"

Katniss unleashed two successive arrows from her bow in a flash and they sunk into Marvel's neck and chest with two soft _thwump, thwumps_. He fell backwards right next to Stasson and miserably yanked the arrow from his own neck where he quickly drowned in his own blood with a loud gagging sound. Peeta cringed at the sight of fresh blood staining the battlefield around the Cornucopia.

BOOM!

In the time between Katniss loosening her arrows and Marvel's last breath Stasson tore the spear from Marvel's hand and lobbed it directly at Peeta with a furious cry. Katniss had been ready to loose another arrow at him when she turned and hit Peeta hard, knocking them both to the ground and out of the spears trajectory. Just then the massive tribute from 11, Thresh, burst onto the scene. His eyes darted about, observing the scene before him and then he grabbed his bag and with a smile stole Stasson's too.

"Fuck!" Stasson screamed in fury as he ripped Katniss' arrow from his thigh and tried to stand, finding his leg unstable. Clove was still sprawled unconscious in the middle of the clearing where Peeta had left her.

Stasson hesitated, looking torn about whom he should chase, and then he raced after Thresh with a rough limp into the fading light behind the Cornucopia. Katniss helped pull Peeta up and they ran together back into the shelter of the woods.

"I'll fucking kill you both, you hear me! I _will_ be the one to kill the two of you! And don't think that traitor Cato is off the hook either!" Stasson warned as he disappeared into the thick field behind them as Peeta clutched the small sack close to his chest.


	17. Chapter 17

The Games: Day 7 Continued

Peeta was tired. Tired of being dirty, drenched in sweat, tired of his limbs aching from exertion and the frantic bursts of adrenaline that spike through his system as he battled for his life. Tired of watching people die and seeing blood spilt everywhere he turned. He was tired of all the gore. How much more did he have to witness? How much longer until it was his cannon fire?

The arena was rapidly cooling now that the sun had set and Peeta could see his breath frosting out before him as he spoke to Katniss.

"Where you headed?"

They were still jogging in line next to each other, racing from the deadly feast at the Cornucopia. Katniss held the bow before her with an arrow strung just incase they encountered any more trouble.

“Rue and I have been hiding among the trees. I need to get back to her." She slowed to stop next to him.

Peeta smiled; glad to know Katniss had taken to protecting the young girl, but worried she was only going to get hurt. What could he say though? He was doing the same thing protecting Cato in a futile endeavor that could only ever end up in one of their deaths.

"Thanks for saving me." Peeta said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, which was now chilling him due to the sudden temperature drop. The Gamemakers were not playing around anymore, as each day was becoming hotter, the nights turned colder.

"Come on, you stopped Clove from putting a knife in my back. It was the least I could do." Katniss shook her head.

"I should have killed her, but I couldn't do it. Not again so soon... Was Marvel your first kill? I just had mine the other day, the guy from 10…"

"That was you?” She studied me closely as if looking for some change in me. “I guess directly. It's disturbing how similar I find it to hunting and killing animals. Indirectly I kind of killed Uphelia and Glimmer though." She shrugged.

"Oh yeah,” Peeta hugged Katniss unexpectedly. It knocked her off balance. “That's for saving my skin then too."

She grinned, but the effect of the games was still evident on her face, wearing her down and leaving dark circles under her eyes. Her braided hair held twigs and dead leaves while her once unblemished skin was now littered with little bruises and scrapes. He wondered if he looked just as worn down, he hadn't seen an image of himself since the games started. He then thought back to that feral looking tribute from 10. Did they all look like that now? Had the games drained the lasts of their humanity from them and now it was just like watching a nature documentary where a bunch of predators stalked one another?

"Well it was a close call and you got me out of that fire. I was worried you wouldn't make it, but it was our best shot. Rue was in a tree nearby and pointed the hive out to me." Katniss shrugged while scratching the back of her head like it was no big deal.

"I guess we're even then. Do you know what happened at the Cornucopia? Everything was destroyed," Peeta asked, figuring Katniss either did it or Thresh.

She grinned widely, "Well a few days after recuperating from my tracker jacker stings, Rue and I concocted a little plan to torch all of the careers remaining supplies, wanting to destroy their advantage. Not with out consequences though, Rue's hurt. I hope there's stuff in this bag to help her. You with Cato?"

Peeta felt a tinge of guilt, Katniss was not getting any help from sponsors and here Peeta was, having been helped multiple times by them and they even sent soup and sleep syrup for Cato.

"Yeah, he's really hurt. I hope whatever's in here can save him."

Katniss analyzed him closely, but she didn't say anything. They both stood in awkward silence, realizing the time had come for them to part ways. Would this be the last time they saw each other? Peeta didn't know what to say. Either of them could be the next tribute to die in the games, there were so few of them left. And what if it came down to just the three of them? Katniss, Cato and Peeta? He didn't know how he would handle that, he knew he wouldn't let them sacrifice themselves so he could be victor, but he didn't want the two of them to kill each other after his death. _Would Katniss even have a problem killing Cato and I so she could return to her family, to her Primrose?_ He realized he wouldn't hate her for it, but it was a harsh thought that stabbed at his mind.

"Be safe, Peeta."

Peeta's blue eyes focused in on her hypnotizing olive green eyes and he nodded, unable to say the words 'goodbye.' Then she was jogging away from him and the chance was gone. Her light footsteps were barely discernable as she faded quickly in the dark woods from years of experience tracking and hunting.

Peeta took out the last of the rabbit leg he had and ate it while making his hike back to the cave. He feared what he might find upon his return. Would Cato still be alive? Would he still be unconscious from the serum or would he have awoken and tried to go after Peeta, getting himself killed in the process? Luckily on his trek the anthem began and he saw the only death today had been Marvel's. Peeta wondered what had happened between Stasson and Thresh. Did he get his bag back? Clove and Stasson were sure to want Katniss and Peeta's blood now more than ever.

Eventually it became freezing in the arena and Peeta had no idea how late it was, but the sun had been down for hours by now. He ran just to keep warm and to make it back to Cato as soon as possible. Hopefully the infection hadn’t spread. He had terrible visions flash before his eyes of finding Cato stone cold and lifeless in the damp cave, his heart having finally given out. Or finding him dead and empty of blood, it having all soaked through the bandage from the morning. Then he stumbled as the memory of Cato collapsing to the ground after the tribute from 10 impaled him resurged in his mind. He hated how that image haunted him, like a vengeful ghost.

The cave was so well concealed Peeta almost didn't spot it. Luckily the outcropping of rocks was a hard structure not to notice. Peeta tore through the water, not caring that it was icy cold and pricked at his legs like thousands of little needles. Cato was just through the rocks and shrubbery he had built up. His heartbeat increased at the prospect of what he might find inside the cave.

It wasn’t too late. It wasn’t too late.

It _can’t_ be too late.

Inside he found the cave as he left it, damp and dark. Huddled in a ball on the floor was Cato, not moving. Peeta dashed to his side and put a hand on him, turning his body over to face Peeta.

 "Cato…?" He braced himself for the worst.

There was no response. Peeta's heart almost stopped. But he held his ear close to Cato's mouth where he heard shallow breathing and then—

"Y-you lied to me, Peeta."

Peeta could have laughed, if the situation wasn't so dire.

"I'm sorry Cato, but don’t act like you would have done the same thing."

Peeta found three things in the small sack from the Cornucopia. A syringe filled with a clear liquid, bandages and a small tin filled with a shimmery grey paste, similar to what was used on his burns. He assumed the needle contained an antibiotic for the infection while the paste would hopefully work to mend his pierced skin.

Peeta did everything he could for Cato, who was too weak to do more than keep one bleary eye on Peeta, as if he was fearful Peeta was just a fever dream that would disappear the next time he opened his eyes. Once re-bandaged Peeta sat next to Cato, his limbs and bones aching in blissful relief at the respite they were finally receiving. But he did not allow himself to sleep, instead keeping watch over Cato's progress. Cato groaned as he fell back into an erratic sleep while the medicine went to work.

Day 8

By sunrise Cato's fever broke and the wound had stopped bleeding. Color was even beginning to leach back into Cato's bone white cheeks. As relief flooded Peeta's body he felt a switch go off in his head, he could finally calm down, dare to even relax. Since that makeshift spear had impaled Cato he had yet to take time to recover. So he laid in next to Cato on their sleeping bag and was asleep before his head touched the ground.

Hours later, probably late afternoon he would have guessed by the light outside the cave, Peeta found himself drawn from sleep by a nuzzling against the back of his neck.

"Cato?"

"Peeta, you're awake!"

Peeta sat up quickly, worried. Had something gone wrong while he was asleep? Did the wound start bleeding again? Instead of facing a new problem Cato's bright face and eager lips greeted him, a tongue shamelessly slipping into his mouth.

"Mm-Cato, what’s gotten—mhm—into you?" Peeta asked between clasped lips.

Cato pulled Peeta up against him lightly and his bare skin finally felt just the perfect temperature.

"I feel fantastic! Whatever you gave me worked miracles. My fever’s gone and the wound is mostly closed, a little sore and tender, but otherwise better than I thought possible!" Cato looked a little guilty that he let slip how dire he thought things were, but then he lifted up the bandage under his right pectoral and showed it off to Peeta.

 The paste really did help re-grow the skin cells, and rapidly. They were very pink and tender looking—like Peeta’s burnt skin had been—with his blue veins exposed near the surface, but it otherwise looked perfectly healthy and fully closed. The frightening discoloration that had been growing out around the edges of the wound was gone too.

"Cato this is wonderful!" He couldn't quite grasp the fact that the Gamemakers had actually provided this for them. Yes all they may have wanted was to see the tributes fight and kill each other at this feast, but they had really provided the means for Peeta to save Cato. Why would they do that?

"Yes it is, but I'm still angry with you." The joyous atmosphere quickly evaporated with Cato's stubborn proclomation.

Peeta rolled his eyes, "You serious? Are you really going to hold onto that?"

"Yes.” Cato nodded, “I told you I wasn't worth it. That I had decided I was going to die for you in this arena. And then there I was, dying and you go risking your life to save me, completely ignoring my own wishes!"

Peeta clenched his jaw in defiance, now angry himself. He did not need to be scolded for trying to save Cato’s life.

"Well then, I guess we're at an impasse. I already told you I would do everything I could to protect you. You know why I came here Cato…"

A visage of the blossoming tree from the rooftop garden came to mind. Where they met that first night. Where everything changed. A tune began to play in Peeta's head:

_Where the dead man called out for his lover to flee..._

Cato quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what was being left unsaid, and then drew a deep breath.

"Yeah? Well I don't accept it, Peeta. If you think I'll allow you to just end your life that easily then you've got another thing coming. I'm calling you on your bullshit now. You saw through all my demons. You held me accountable to myself and changed me, in the face of the greatest hardship we could ever face. And yet you keep suppressing your own greatness..."

The tune played on in Peeta’s mind:

_Strange things did happen here…_

"People have put you down your whole life, worked to keep the brightness that is your soul from shining through, because they know the power it holds and it scares them. But Peeta, you stupid, powerful, amazing man, I _love_ you and I won't allow you to keep holding yourself down anymore. That time is over. You deserve to live, you need to live, and it's the only thing I know to be true anymore in this fucked up world."

_No stranger would it be…_

Peeta was frozen to the ground, speechless, as if he no longer had control over his own body. Cato was now holding both of Peeta's arms forcefully and all he could do was return the intense stare with a thousand questions shinning in his blue eyes. People had kept telling Peeta since he volunteered for these games that he was something more than a silly bakers son from the coal-mining district, but he refused to believe it. His mother and brothers beat him down his whole life, his father never once took a real interest in any of his family's life, the loneliness he faced every day at school, all these helped break his will to survive in the end.

But maybe that was it. He had not just volunteered for the games as a means of suicide, but as a way to live. To force himself to fight, to take control back from everyone, his spiraling life, his mother, his brothers, the Capitol. In that one small moment of his life he had changed everything, his destiny, Cato's, Katniss', District 12's and maybe even all of Panem's. What Cato was saying finally seemed to ring with truth to him and it was utterly terrifying. Was he destined to lose Cato to become something more for the country?

The final verse of the Hanging Tree sprung to Peeta's mind.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

The song had finally revealed it's meaning to Peeta and he felt completely foolish for not seeing it sooner. A man was calling for a revolution. Sacrifice. Their love could not be saved, but their act of defiance could be the spark to change the world.

What was the audience thinking of this moment and was all they were saying being broadcast or too rebellious for the districts to see? He wanted to run, flee, fight and scream, anything to delay this, to have a few more moments of ignorant bliss.

"Cato, I… I'm scared. I want to be the man you say I am, that everyone claims to see.” He ground out in a choked response, “But I don't want to loose you. I don't want to loose Katniss. How will I stay the person I am with out you? You say I hold you accountable to yourself? Well you brought out who I really am, who I always wanted to be. You're my first and only love, Cato."

Peeta now cupped Cato's strong jaw in his hands as he fought back tremors. Cato was breathing heavily as they realized what this moment meant. The understanding they were finally reaching. They loved each other, but their love wasn't enough to save them. Nothing could save them from the fate assigned to them by the Capitol. Peeta felt his fingers moisten as tears reached his cupped hands against Cato's face. He leaned in to connect their lips, needing Cato to give him strength.

Peeta whispered against Cato's lips, "I'll love you until the end Cato, just promise that you'll always be mine?"

Cato kissed back against Peeta's lips softly and it tasted of salt from his tears.

"Always, Peeta. I've been waiting my whole life to meet you, to feel this. No matter what happens to me, I'll always be yours."

Then just as suddenly as it had all started the Hunger Games yet again succeeded in disrupting the most intimate and important moment of Peeta's life. Cato and Peeta's lips broke apart in astonishment, their eyes connected, because it wasn't possible. It couldn’t be.


	18. Chapter 18

The Games: Day 8 Continued

Peeta's brain had powered down. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a trick. The _Gamemakers couldn't be that cruel as to play them like this could they?_ Peeta wondered in alarm. He tried to stop from hyperventilating, but his breaths kept coming quick and shallow. _The feast wasn't a lie, so could this be true too?_ He didn't know what to believe. His mind struggled to figure it out, like it was fighting against a massive electrical blackout and he searched frantically for the slightest spark to reignite the lights and give him a clue. Everyday he found there was less and less room in his mind to make sense of what was happening.

But it had to be true, as Claudius Templesmith's voice had rung out through the arena in a crystal clear tone. There was no denying it.

"Attention Tributes, there has been a change of the rules. Two individuals may win the Hunger Games this year, but only if they work as a team from this point on. That will be all, thank you."

Abruptly the power came flooding back and it all made sense. Haymitch's note saying to be more open, the sponsors gifts that helped not only Peeta, but Cato too, even the feast seemed to suggest preparations for a massive change like this. Haymitch just needed Peeta to convince the audience to become truly invested in this star-crossed love, that it was worth it for both of them to make it out alive. And now here they were, given the most unbelievable opportunity. Haymitch's words from when he drilled Peeta for the interview ran through his thoughts, _you are at your best and most charismatic when you are open and honest. It will save you._

"Cato! My god, we can both—"

But he was cut short, as Cato was busy gluing his lips to Peeta with sobs of joy, relaying to him in between kisses, "I know, I know! It's too good to be true!"

Peeta's mind and body were reeling as Cato continued the assault on his lips with zeal, shoving his tongue into Peeta's willing mouth where they both moaned, giving in to their passions. There was no need to talk about what had just been revealed to them, they could communicate through the touch of skin-on-skin and heady blue eyes on fervent hazel ones. The connection between them was now something so much more than first crush, lust or even first love. Peeta didn't believe in a higher power, but he couldn't deny some force had pulled them together. They could have never fought it to begin with and neither could those in control of the games.

The confined, damp, cold cave they were in seemed to be expanding, light and love and possibilities propelling it outwards as hope flooded them both. The atmosphere became charged, as if an electric current were running through it, causing the hairs on Peeta's arms to stand to attention, warming their skin, pulsating through Cato's lips on his.

Cato's hands roamed freely, memorizing the contours of Peeta's body. He pushed Peeta back down against the sleeping bag and propped himself above Peeta. His abs flexed and his biceps bulged with the strain of holding himself over Peeta as he chewed on Peeta’s bottom lip. Peeta could feel Cato's arousal pushing into his thigh and he knew this time would be different. The need and lust were still there, but now Peeta had the words to describe the other feelings racing through him: love, happiness, hope.

Cato had trouble raising his right arm higher than his shoulder, probably due to his injury not fully healed internally, so he tore Peeta's shirt off instead before resting their bare muscled torsos together. Cato seemed ready to be in control of this situation as he pinned Peeta's hands above his head and suckled and nibbled along Peeta's jaw. Peeta was not going to complain, he was just so thankful that Cato had his strength back and that his love was returned and they could possibly make it out of this alive, together…

Cato progressed from Peeta's jaw to his neck, nipping at his Adam's apple while still holding Peeta's wrists above his head with his left hand. "Cato…" Peeta whimpered out. The feelings that coursed through him were intoxicating. Cato's attention to his body was a like a drug, the more doses he received the more he craved it.

Cato looked up with sultry eyes as he lavished attention on Peeta’s clavicle bone, biting his soft skin until it turned red then soothing it with his cool tongue. He proceeded to hold eye contact with Peeta while his tongue trailed down and over to Peeta’s right nipple, where he sucked it into his mouth.

Peeta was lost in ecstasy as all his surroundings dropped away, all his senses focused solely on the exquisite pleasure Cato was bringing to his body, working his way down his lightly defined abs with kisses and playful nibbles. Cato’s energy had definitely been restored. He was acting like a newborn pup, wild and energetic, ready to explore and Peeta was his playground. Suddenly Peeta’s eyes shot open in shock as he cried out, “Oh god!”

Cato had undone his pants and swallowed Peeta’s member to the base in one quick fluid movement. He had never felt such a sensation before as his brain went into meltdown mode. It brought him to the brink in seconds as Cato slowly raised his soft lips up and down along his shaft with the perfect suction; the sounds that slurped from his mouth sinful and echoed around the cave along with Peeta’s breathy moans. His hands, now free, fell to his sides as he clenched the sleeping bag in his fists; trying to hold on as if he may just float away, effervescing into the air around him.

“Cato, I’m close, but I want…” He hesitated, and then just said it. “I want you to make love to me, to…to be my first.”

Cato groaned in response, his eyes now black with desire, “You’re sure? I’ve never gone all the way either…”

Peeta fixed his lustful gaze on Cato, happier than he expected at the confession that Cato too was a virgin, and replied assertively, “Completely.”           

With that final response Cato flew into action. Suddenly they were both completely naked before each other and it was an awesome sight to behold. It was amazing how Cato could make Peeta feel so great about himself, even in situations like these, where he had never before bared so much to one person, mentally or physically. Yet he didn’t feel a blush creep to his cheeks, already flushed with the heat of the moment, nor did he feel the urge to cover himself in modesty. Cato was his protection and Peeta felt safe revealing everything to him, giving Cato all he had to offer.       

Peeta spread his legs as Cato maneuvered in place. Cato used his saliva to lube his throbbing penis and Peeta felt only one fleeting moment of anxiety spike through him, before Cato placed a soft kiss to his forehead and said, “I love you, Peeta.” And then they were connected on a level never before known to Peeta. He cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as Cato bottomed out. He held himself over Peeta, all his muscles flexed and a look of intense concentration on his face as he allowed Peeta to relax around him. 

Peeta never wanted it to end as he pulled Cato’s face down to his and planted a soft and tender kiss on his lips, a light trail of spit connecting between them when they broke apart. They built a steady and beautiful rhythm, working together as if they were one. Knowing exactly how to move for the other, bringing breathy moans and cries from the others lips as they intertwined their sweating bodies, Cato gripping and stroking Peeta’s cock attentively, building them both slowly, sweetly and steadily towards a starry explosion of lights and a burning fire through their veins as they climaxed together, partners, one team from this point on. 

Cato collapsed atop Peeta in a sweaty mess, exhausted and spent. Peeta whimpered at the loss when Cato pulled his shrinking penis out of his ass. He was just as done in from their passionate sex as Cato, but he already missed the feeling of being filled by Cato, the connection and closeness it brought. It had been a truly meaningful first time even if it was in some shitty cave in the middle of a brutal life or death game for Capitol entertainment.

Peeta stroked Cato’s back absentmindedly as he caught his breath atop Peeta. Peeta didn’t mind bearing the brunt of Cato’s weight. He had carried it once before and this was under much more pleasant circumstances and he would choose it any day of the week. But Cato seemed to be regaining some of his senses and rolled off Peeta on to his back. Peeta slipped his hand into Cato’s, not wanting a moment unconnected to him. He really was a junkie for Cato’s love.

"That was… I don't even know. More than I could have ever expected." Cato ground out.

He turned to stare at Peeta with loving eyes; compassion written all over his face and it melted Peeta's heart. Cato squeezed Peeta's hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing each finger tenderly, each one a precious gem in his eyes.

Peeta noticed the sun was beginning to set outside and he worried briefly what tomorrow would bring. There had been little action today it seemed with no cannon fire, meaning no fights. The audience may soon get bored although the new twist today brought may have given them something to talk about for a bit, delaying further Gamemaker interventions, for now.

He turned onto his stomach and rested his chin lightly atop Cato's abdomen. His breath fluttered over Cato's abs, which looked to be sculpted from marble as they tensed from the cool air rushing over them. Peeta felt a laugh building up in the pit of his stomach and threatening to bubble forth. When it finally did Cato cocked his head at him perplexed, one eyebrow raised above the other.

Peeta looked at Cato with his eyes crinkled in good spirits.

"Sorry, it's just you are so unreal. Like what did I do right to land a guy like you?"

"Ow!" Peeta pinched Cato's skin and he flinched with a yelp.

"Just making sure this is real. That I'm not still in some horrible tracker-jacker induced dream, I couldn't handle that."

Cato rubbed his sore skin with a huff, "You're supposed to pinch yourself, you know."

Peeta exaggeratedly kissed the spot were he had offended Cato with big puckered lips and a loud smacking sound.

"Does that make it better?"

Cato grinned foolishly and it reached his eyes, lighting them up with a joy Peeta hadn't seen in them since before the games had started. He felt his face reflecting back a similar look, as he knew this was what should be.

"You are too cute for your own good, Peeta."

"And also very sleepy. You wore me out. Oh and you rudely woke me up from my sleep earlier." Peeta said with a playful smirk.

Cato rolled his eyes and then dragged Peeta up and on top of him. Their naked bodies now fully spread against one another and if Peeta weren't so worn out he would have probably moved in for a round two. Cato placed a chaste kiss against Peeta's lips.

"Then lets sleep, love, and tomorrow we can work on winning this thing. Together. And Peeta? Don't put yourself down like that, you're perfectly imperfect and you deserve so much better than a guy like me. But I'm glad you'll have me."

Peeta liked that. He liked it a lot as he traced a finger lightly against the still new and slightly raw pink skin below Cato's right pectoral. _I'd choose Cato any day, no question about it_ , he thought as he nuzzled his head in the crook of Cato's neck. It was Cato's turn to hold all of Peeta's weight. They were a team now and from this moment on they would take turns carrying the other. He silently vowed to himself: _We will be each other's shelter. We will love each other because of our flaws. We will share one another's burdens and make it through this, alive, together. I hope, I pray…_


	19. Chapter 19

The Games: Day 9

Spent, slightly sore, and a well rested while later Peeta awoke in the pre-dawn hours of the morning to the songs of the Mockingjays. Cato was softly snoring next to him on Peeta's arm. He had to carefully extricate the arm to wring the numbness from it before the pins and needles prickling his skin were too much.

Peeta stood and took the opportunity to study Cato's naked form before him as if he were on display in some museum. He forged a path with his eyes along Cato's strong arms taking in the details the artist who made him worked so hard to perfect. They were much more muscular than Peeta's and had thick veins that ran along his bicep with his darker blonde hair sticking out from the pit of his arm like a dry straw patch. His eyes continued to his broad chest and large pectorals with nickel sized brown nipples and a light dusting of hair around them; down along his abdomen chiseled from marble to his light blonde happy trail that led to the package nestled between his thick muscular legs.

Peeta enjoyed the chance to gaze uninhibited at Cato's form and how it was all his—Peeta’s private gallery. They were together and he could probably do it any time, but with Cato peacefully asleep he could stare for as long as it pleased him with out it interruption. He had never had the chance to allow himself the opportunity to enjoy the form of a fellow male he was attracted to, always busy trying to keep it under the radar, to never let anyone catch him looking longer than he should.

Sadly his eyes kept darting back up to Cato's healing wound. He may have looked completely healed on the outside, but he had yet to completely heal internally. Peeta brushed aside those thoughts because he was no longer on the verge of death and that was something to rejoice. He bent over to put on his pants and flinched from a slight pain left over from yesterday. Then he stole Cato's spare undershirt to wear as his was ripped and worthless on the cave floor, just more collateral damage from last nights. At the mouth of the cave he stood and listened to the birds sing, the sun still low in the sky. A thin mist hung in the dark dawn air tickling his lungs as he took deep breaths. He held the pin from Riece in his hand and thought there couldn't have been a better symbol from home to bring with him; these birds were the perfect expression of defiance in the face of the Capitol's control, having created themselves from a failed Capitol intervention in nature.

Peeta rubbed his stomach absentmindedly. They had eaten nothing yesterday, mostly because he didn't wake up until late afternoon after spending all night working on Cato and praying for his recovery. Now if they were going to win they needed to eat. So he set off into the woods quickly with the sword by his side and laid a few snares at varying depths from the cave hoping to find animals in them later. When he returned to the river with more immediate hopes on his mind the sun had fully risen above the tree line.

Half an hour later all he had succeeded in doing was getting completely soaked, bruising his kneecap, and becoming greatly agitated. He had no idea how to go about trying to catch a fish as he lashed out into the water with the sword. He was like a frustrated child trying to grasp a concept beyond his reach and so he reacted in anger hoping that would subdue his antagonist. He wanted to do this for Cato and so he persisted until finally out of pure luck a fish happened to jump out of the river and strand itself on a rock, probably in fear over his crazed splashing about. But he took what he could get and dove on top of it before it could flop back into the flowing water and escape.

"Ha! Yes! You are mine now!"

As Peeta stood, holding on to the slimy fish tightly, he found his face blooming in a rapid flush as Cato's deep and infectious laugh echoed from the mouth of the cave.

"So you wrestle with fish now? I'm relieved to see you won, otherwise there might not be any hope for us at all in these games."

Peeta stuck his tongue out at Cato.

"Shut up. I caught us breakfast, do you want some or not?"

Cato laughed again as he took the fish from Peeta's hand with delicacy, as if Peeta were a wild animal he may startle with too much movement.

"Of course, how about I cook it?"

"Fine. I try to do something nice and I get mocked." Peeta looked at Cato indignantly.

"Yes, Peeta, I'm mocking you by cooking us breakfast." Cato rolled his eyes as he moved across the river to make a cook site, holding one hand to his chest in teasing hurt. Peeta followed behind him to help start the fire with the matches from his backpack.

"Now you're just being sarcastic."

Cato chuckled but didn't respond. A wise choice on his part, because Peeta was still feeling irritable from his hunger and, in actuality, his loss in the wrestling matches with most of the fish in the river. But he wouldn't let Cato know that nor how long he had been tussling with the fish until he caught one. He had some pride after all.

While the fish crackled and spat over the small fire Peeta found himself leaning over and wrapping his arms around Cato from behind. Cato was seated cross-legged while he poked at the fish, one of his hands gently touching the phantom sight of his wound. He took the sword from Peeta's hand and only then did Peeta realize how tightly he had been grasping it. His knuckles actually cracked and ached a little as Cato rubbed them, freeing them from his unyielding grip.

A sweet tune spread through the forest from the Mockingjays, this one different from the notes they usually sang.

"Babe, it's ok…"

Peeta sighed as he crouched down behind Cato, gently touching Cato's chest having memorized the exact position and look of Cato's wound and knowing he could never forget it.

"I know, but the image of that guy attacking you just wont leave me. I don't think it ever will..."

More Mockingjays played the song back across the forest. Peeta wondered where they had learned the tune. It was beautiful and comforting, like an old lullaby he knew. But the melody was too short for him to place.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you yesterday. I was stupid and foolish for letting my guard down like that when we were so exposed in the woods.” Cato shuffled around in Peeta's arms until he was facing him, “I know better than to put my sword down. I could have gotten us both killed."

Peeta shoved his face into the crook of Cato's neck, loving how he could touch him and hold him because Cato was his, they were a team now and they loved each other. He inhaled his smell and noted the changes since coming to the arena, how it was mostly masked by a smell of blood and dirt.

"It is NOT your fault you were almost killed, it's not even 10's. It's all—"

BOOM!

Peeta and Cato both stared at each other, startled by the cannon fire, both wondering who the new victim was. Peeta briefly worried of Katniss and little Rue. Then his worry turned to something darker as he realized they too would now be a team. He couldn't kill Katniss or that little girl, but what if it came down to their two teams? That was as much a possibility as anything else and it sickened Peeta to even think of it. There truly was no way of winning these games, even now that they had the chance of two victors. It was a disturbing catch-twenty-two.

Stasson and Clove were also likely to be a team now making them the most immediate threat. Which left Thresh and the girl from 5 by themselves. Peeta was sure they would not try to team up with anyone at this point, lacking the ability to trust anyone they didn't already know in the games by now. He felt saddened for them because he couldn't imagine being on his own in these games. He might have gone insane and he could understand, briefly, how that one tribute actually went cannibalistic on everyone a few games back. Just those first two days when he was all alone were rough enough and he quickly fell into a self-pitying mess. A weak mind and starvation coupled with the driving insanity of loneliness could probably drive a lot of kids to dark places.

After eating the smoked fish and some of the berries Peeta had used to drug Cato—which he ate grudgingly in silence at the memory of them—Peeta and Cato felt a little better. But they were still vaguely hungry and would only get more so as the morning wore on. So Peeta told Cato he would head into the woods and check the few snares he had set earlier for any animals. Cato wanted to come but Peeta was forceful on this point.

"No Cato, we only have one weapon and you are still not fully recovered. Don't even try to lie to me about it. You may look fine on the outside, but I know you still feel it on the inside. I don't want you to even try using this sword and risk hurting yourself internally before you're in complete good health. We will need it later."

“I wont let you go on your own! Do you even know what you did to me yesterday? When I woke up and it was night and you were still gone?" Cato was furious and resentful, his brows deeply furrowed, his hazel eyes lit with a fierce fire.

Peeta felt guilty for a moment, but instead he put his foot down this time. No more tricks or threats.

"Do not act like I can't handle myself Cato. I’ve made it through my fair share of hell in these games. I think I can handle hunting on my own. We can't try to watch each other's backs with one weapon and you still in a weakened state. It’s just the truth."

Cato puffed his chest out like a swelling balloon and then surprisingly relented and Peeta comically thought he could hear the air as it rushed from his deflating body. His face smoothed out and he ran his left hand through his hair in surrender.

"Okay. I trust you, Peeta. I have to have faith in you. You _will_ be fine, because we have to win this. So just be quick, okay? I can't stop myself from worrying."

Peeta leaned in to kiss Cato softly, hoping to assuage some of his stress and fears, knowing he’d still be wracked with them once alone in the cave and nothing but time to think and fret.

"I wont be gone long. Just to check a few snares I set or we wont stand a chance against Stasson and Clove. And Cato? Put some more of that paste on your wound, okay?"

The first snare of Peeta's proved unrewarding and he found that he had actually set it incorrectly, the trigger having never actually been connected to the wire. He wanted to kick himself for being so inept. If he had just done that simple step maybe they would have snared another woodland rabbit or small rodent and he could head back to Cato. Instead he had to continue on to another trap of his, which he also found lacking in bounty. This was leading him deeper in to the woods and taking longer than he wanted. He only had one more snare and hoped there was something of worth inside it as he ran to its location wanting this wrapped up already. He may have been able to take care of himself, but he didn't like being out in the woods alone. Especially after hearing that cannon, it meant someone was out there in a killing mood.

When he reached the furthest spot where he had set his third and final snare he found a disturbing scene that brought his run to a startling halt. The snare had been triggered. A few feet from where the bounty should have been caught laid a dead rabbit. Someone had come across his snare and broke the rabbit's neck ready to take it. Except next to the dead rabbit was a pool of blood, too much to be anything else but human. It was still wet. Peeta froze.

This was where the most recent tribute must have died triggering the morning cannon fire. He scanned the area for any signs of a threat, sword at the ready. He had no way of knowing who it was or what had happened as the hover craft had already come to collect the body, but he did see two things that stopped his heart. The first was a spear with a little flesh still stuck to the edges—having been ripped out of the body of whomever it had struck. But the attacker didn't take the spear, instead leaving it as a token to what had occurred. Then there was the second thing, which threatened to knock Peeta to the ground as disbelief and misery clawed at his mind. _No, no, no. I'm not ready…_

Just a little further from the spear and blood soaked earth Peeta spotted two arrows embedded in a tree. Only one person in the arena had the use of a bow anymore. Katniss.

Peeta secured the sword in his belt and then picked up the used spear for a second weapon, flinging the tip to free it of any blood and fleshy remnants, as he continued to scan the area for a remaining danger. His blood coursed scorching hot through his veins as various scenarios played out in his mind all ending the same with Katniss being speared down by Stasson. But he had to stop himself because there was no proof she was dead. It could be just as equally plausible that Rue had been killed or Katniss had managed to kill whoever attacked them. There was no body to clue him in on the person that had died.

There had only been one cannon fire, not more than an hour ago. This was all very recent. Peeta's mind raced wildly and he wasn't sure where it was going to lead him. But then he spotted a break in the foliage to his right, like something had been dragged through it, with undergrowth and dirt upturned from fighting feet. Someone was dragged from this spot, very much alive and suddenly he knew he was going to do something stupid. Really, really stupid, he knew it.


	20. Chapter 20

The Games: Day 9 Continued

Peeta was running. The spear braced before him at the ready as he kicked up dirt and leaves in his wake trying to follow the path left before him by the kidnappers. _They either took Katniss or Rue. I can't let them get away with it. If Katniss were dead she would want me to save Rue._ And yes, Peeta realized if Rue was dead and they took Katniss it was for this very reason, to lure Peeta to them so that they could kill him. But he didn't care, because if Katniss was alive he had to try. He had to know. Cato could hate him later, but right now his friend needed him. He knew it was reckless and stupid to just go charging after such a blatant ruse. But if he had learned anything from this whole ordeal, volunteering for the Hunger Games and participating in them, it was that life was precious. There was no price too great to protect it. His life only meant something if he lived it, not gave up for some suicide by Hunger Games nor only by protecting his own life. _If I am to truly live I must have things worth living for. Friendship, love, hope…_

He slowed his pace so as to make sure he didn't loose the trail, but luckily it stayed pretty obvious with deep scuffmarks from feet and trampled bushes only further solidifying the fact that whoever did this wanted to be tracked. It made Peeta nervous and his grip tightened on the spear, turning his knuckles white with pressure. His ears strained to pick up any sounds outside of the ordinary in the woods, hoping to alert him to any approaching danger or where his destination may lie.

The minutes, hours, and days blurred together. Had it been ten days now that he had been in this arena? When had this all started and when would it end? How long had he been training at the Capitol? Peeta could not even remember a time before this, when his life was anything different than high blood pressure, panic and death. Running, screaming, and blood. Cannon fire, tears, and unexpected love. This journey had brought him so many things he never anticipated, like finding what it means to truly care for someone as a friend and lover. To have a sense of purpose. To know a calling greater than ones self.

He hated the Capitol for all it had done to him, to the country and the people in it. Yet now he seemed to find a conduit through which to channel every oppressed feeling he had in his life because of the terrors the Capitol continued to inflict upon them. Peeta felt a swelling of pride. Cato and him had already come to the conclusion that they were engaged in something greater than themselves. Now it was time to prove it.

"AH!"

Peeta froze on the spot, all the muscles in his body clenched tight as if he had been shot with a dose of a paralyzing agent. That cry of pain, he knew it. Katniss. She was alive. He threw himself behind a tree, if he was close enough to hear her cries he was close enough to be spotted. He checked the sword and it was still securely fastened to his belt. Then he gripped the spear tightly as he turned to look around the trunk of the tree. He saw nothing. He was probably too far from wherever Katniss was, but he wasn't going to take chances by just waltzing straight ahead. Whatever had happened to her, the cause was still nearby for sure.

"Urgh, damn it!"

The cries that kept emitting from Katniss' mouth were not as pained as he first thought. It sounded as if she was struggling against something, but she didn't sound in actual agony. Which flooded Peeta's body with relief, like a hot bath soothing his stressed bones.

Peeta decided it was safe to traipse a little closer after analyzing the now daunting woods around him and finding no immediate danger. He kept low to the underbrush as he neared the area he thought he heard Katniss' cries coming from. He kept looking around, shooting fervent glances behind his back and to his left and right, constantly on edge, ready to anticipate the next ambush. He felt like a terrified child in some ridiculous haunted house where every corner there lurked a threat, except it could all just be his mind, but if not he was sure to be a dead man.

As Peeta crept his way around a rather large tree trunk he found himself face-to-face with Katniss. She was truly alive.

"Katniss! Thank god!"

He surveyed her state and found a large welt forming atop her left temple, blood matted to her hair, and she was tied to the tree by thick rope.

"Peeta, no! Go back, now!" She hissed, struggling against her bonds. "This is exactly what they wanted!"

Peeta propped his spear against the trunk next to Katniss as he used Cato's sword to start to cut through Katniss' bindings. He worked as fast as the sword would allow. The thick rope fought against the smooth blade of his weapon and repelled it until he worked up a strong sawing rhythm.

"I know, I know. But I saw the scene where… Rue?” Peeta paused to check Katniss. Her watery green eyes said it all. “I'm so sorry. I couldn't leave with the possibility of you still being alive though. So you're going to have to suck it up and we'll deal with the consequences togeth— AH!"

Peeta cupped his cheek after it throbbed with a searing pain. It had been sliced open and hot blood flowed out over his fingertips, a knife having flown past to embed itself deep into the tree trunk only inches from Katniss' neck. Her eyes were wide in bewilderment. He swiveled on his spot to face the new arrival, handing Katniss the sword to finish freeing herself while he held the spear in front of him, his legs braced for a fight.

"Hello flamer. How's it been? That was for the splitting headache you gave me. The next one wont miss." Clove sneered triumphantly about ten yards from Peeta. Stasson was still nowhere to be seen, which worried Peeta. Where was he and what was he planning?

"It's good to see you up and about Clove. I was worried. But they say you never can keep a good bitch down." He heard the last of the rope snap as Katniss cut her legs free.

Clove grinned as she flipped a knife in her hand; the sun glinted off its sharp edges menacingly. She looked haggard and her hair hung from her in bloody clumps, but the fire in her eyes was undeniable. Someone was not making it out of here alive. Peeta vowed it would be her.

"You're funny. Lets see if you're still laughing when I'm done with you both."

Katniss positioned herself to the left of Peeta, gripping the sword tightly. It was not a weapon she was comfortable with, but she would have to make due as Peeta had no idea where her bow and arrow was.

"Stasson's still out there…" She breathed out.

Peeta nodded as he tried to think of an escape, if they moved she was sure to fling that knife deftly into their bodies. He could try and spear her, but she was sure to be expecting that ready to dodge his attack and then they would be down a weapon. He knew he would be walking right into their trap, but at the moment he hadn't cared. He was single-mindedly focused on finding their prisoner. Except now that he was here he found himself hesitating. What were they planning? She wasn't making a move yet and he wondered what she was waiting for. She had a conniving smirk on her lips that looked as if it were surgically grafted to her face the way she wore it. It made him hot around the collar. He felt as if they were standing on thin ice. He had no clue which direction to step that wouldn't plunge him into the deadly cold waters below bringing Katniss down with him. Before he could make a decision an arrow materialized out of thin air and struck Peeta's left shoulder. It knocked him back into the tree with a shocking force and horrific flaring pain. Stars burst across his vision. The ice had cracked at his inaction it seemed.

"PEETA!" Katniss cried out and then she threw herself at Clove, stopping her from throwing a knife at Peeta. She knocked it from Clove’s hand, just as another arrow whizzed through the air Katniss had been occupying seconds before.

The pain was excruciating as Peeta stumbled to keep himself upright. He gripped the spear tightly in his uninjured right arm, also luckily his throwing arm. That meant the arrow could stay for now. He quickly swiveled around the tree, hoping to be clear of the arrow fire as another one struck his previous spot on the tree. Stasson had to be up in a tree, which was why Clove was waiting. She was just holding them off while Stasson took aim and shot them. Fortunately for Peeta, Stasson didn't have great aim, although he was extraordinarily close to Peeta's heart. Just a few inches south and he'd have been dead.

So on second thought maybe he did have pretty good aim.

Peeta looked up and around frantically for where Stasson may have been hiding with the bow. While the girls clashed and fought for their lives Stasson wouldn't be able to get a clear shot on Katniss, but that could change at a moments notice and Peeta had to find him before then. They were running out of time, the thin ice beneath his feet continuing to splinter at their predicament.

Clove and Katniss screeched and hollered as they rolled around the ground throwing punches, kicks, using teeth and claws, anything to get the upper hand in the fight. The sword laid a few feet from their scuffle out of reach of both the girls and Peeta. Clove had managed to pull another knife from her belt and was now trying to push it down with all her might into Katniss' chest, but Katniss maneuvered to the right and avoided the knife, which sunk into the earth next to her neck. Then she broke Clove's grasp and ripped it from the ground, throwing it far from sight.

Eventually Peeta’s eyes caught movement in a tree a few yards behind where Clove had been standing off with them. Stasson was climbing down from the tree; he was going to join the fray. They couldn't take Stasson and Clove hand to hand, not when Peeta had an arrow in his shoulder—blood now ran down his left arm in thick tendrils dripping from his fingertips. His cheek throbbed and bled along with his furious pulse. Peeta needed to slow Stasson down. His eyes scoured the earth before him and then he lunged for a grapefruit sized rock, took aim, and chucked it with all his might.

"Arg!" He heard Stasson cry out as the rock connected squarely with the back of his neck, causing him to lose his grip and fall the rest of the way from the tree and land in a disoriented heap. He would be down and dazed for a few moments allowing Peeta to run and help Katniss. She had kicked Clove from atop of her and was now scrambling for the sword that had been knocked from her during the fight.

Clove was scrambling off in the other direction for one of her discarded knives.

"Stasson they're getting away! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She screamed.

“Follow me!" Peeta helped pull Katniss up in one fell swoop when he reached her.

He then ran full sprint in the opposite direction from Clove and Stasson when a knife flew past him, cutting the same arm that was connected to his injured shoulder. "FUCK!" He cried out in pain as he heard the whiz of another knife and Katniss screaming out, "AHH!"

Peeta, furious and with out thinking, turned on the spot and threw the spear in his good arm with as much force, ferocity and adrenaline as he could muster. It sailed through the air with a perfect arc that Marvel would have envied and then sunk into the stomach of Clove, erupting out her back side in a fountain of blood and gore, planting itself into the ground and holding her in place. She didn't even make a sound, the last knife in her hand fell limply from her grip as a drop of blood trailed from her mouth and then her head sagged.

BOOM!

"NOOO!" Stasson could be heard screaming in fury as Peeta turned back around and fled from the scene with Katniss, who had fallen to the ground, but managed to pull herself back up with out Peeta's help.

"I got it," She waved off his hand, "Lets g-go!"

They ran as fast as their feet could take them, but they were both injured and Peeta suddenly heard the booming footsteps of Stasson hot on their trail. It sounded as if they were futilely trying to outrun a rampaging bull. Before he knew it he felt a blinding pain as a heavy object connected powerfully with his back, knocking him to the ground and the wind from his lungs.

"Oof!"

Stasson had chucked his war hammer at Peeta. Then he jumped atop Peeta with a vengeance, rolling Peeta over to look at him.

"It's just you now, 12. You're dead. Rest easy knowing I'll take good care of your lover boy Cato."

Spittle flew from his lips as he spoke. Then he started to throw punches with powerful fists at Peeta's head. His face, jaw, and skull all exploded in pain and stars, as he was beat upon by Stasson's massive meaty fists. He felt his cut cheek tear open wider and spill more blood as Stasson's connected with it. Then he gripped the base of the arrow in Peeta's shoulder and dug it in deeper. Peeta could feel the flesh ripping and burning as if a hot poker was jabbed into his skin.

"ARHHH!" A ragged scream erupted from Peeta’s lips.

Stasson then ripped the arrow out with ease and Peeta thought he was going to pass out from the pain, it was unbearable as more flesh was mutilated by Stasson's hand. But he managed to hold on to consciousness. Stasson then positioned the point of the arrow over his heart as a he grinned wide. Peeta looked deep into his beetle like eyes and found no trace of humanity. Stasson was one of those naturally sadistic people, who enjoyed inflicting pain on others and relished in the awful power he wielded. He was no better than President Snow or the Gamemakers. He was the reason people like them had won the first war. Because they weren't afraid to do the unthinkable, they didn't hesitate when it came to killing.

"I wont miss my target this time." He growled.

Peeta felt terror course through him as he realized this was the moment. He was going to die. The ice was finally breaking from his weight and death would soon be upon him. He hoped Katniss escaped. He hoped Cato would forgive him. He hoped his District thought honorably of his actions today as they watched Stasson thrust downward with the arrow.

Then suddenly the weight was lifted from him as if by divine intervention. Stasson was tackled from his body and Peeta felt the air rush back into his lungs. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. He tried to sit up, but felt his head spin. He needed to help Katniss for she couldn't take Cato in close combat. But then he heard a voice he didn't recognize.

"You think you can kill Rue and taunt me all with out consequence?" A deep voice raged.

"Ha, you liked that? Well I've got more where that came from." Stasson laughed maniacally.

Peeta looked on in shock as the large tribute from 11, Thresh, wrestled with Stasson. He looked in rough shape, with many large discolorations covering his exposed dark skin. But he was holding his own with Stasson as they struggled with each other, dirt and dust being kicked up all around the flurry of fists and twisting bodies. There was some grudge between the two of them that was playing out, maybe that's why he stole Stasson's pack at the feast. But whatever the reason for Thresh's appearance, Peeta needed to flee, now. He couldn't hang around to see what was going on between them. He thought maybe Katniss had just gone on ahead with out him even though that seemed highly unlikely. Then he spotted Cato's sword. Its steely reflective surface caught the sunlight and captured his attention.

Peeta's breath hitched as the blood drained from his face. His whole body throbbed from his various cuts and wounds and the beating Stasson gave him. But with a new burst of adrenaline his mind cleared and numbed his body to the pain as he ran to Katniss, collapsed face down in the dirt. He found she had pulled a knife from her back and then fainted in the pool of her own blood. Clove. She may have missed Peeta, but she got Katniss. He struggled against the hyperventilation caused by the disturbing sight of Katniss motionless in her own blood.

He scooped her up in his arms and ran from the scene as fast as his feet could carry him.

"Shit, shit! Just hold on, ok? Come on Katniss, just hold on for me!" He cried out to Katniss.

She made no response to his pleas, but he could hear her shallow breath near his ear, so he kept running with a dim hope that faded like the setting sun with each rasp of her breath. The sounds of the scuffle behind him faded quickly as he ran back towards the river and the medicine. He pushed himself to go as fast as he could in his wrecked state. He prayed there was enough medicine left to help her.

"You're going to be fine, Katniss, do you hear me? You'll be fine—"

BOOM!

Peeta stumbled and fell to the ground, like he had been shot in the stomach. Katniss flopped from his arms as he shouted out.

"NO!"

But then Katniss opened an eye and groaned out, "Uhh…"

The cannon fire must have been for either Stasson or Thresh. He couldn't think about that now though, not when it could have been…

"Oh god, Katniss, I-I'm so sorry. I-I thought you h-had…" But he trailed off as she shook her head at him weakly.

"It's okay Peeta…." She wheezed out. It was a horrible sound that terrified Peeta, foreshadowing something worse than a simple stab wound. "Don't worry about me."

"Katniss, come on. I've got some medicine back at our cave. It can heal you. Cato had it worse from a spear and it stitched him right up!" His voice squeaked out on the last words as he tried to pick her back up. She was going to make it, if he could just—

Katniss pushed him off weakly as she coughed. He fell back. There was blood in her cough. He tried to swallow back the fear as he imagined the knife from Clove piercing a lung, causing her shallow and labored breath. _Fuck, why didn't I just have the guts to kill her when I had the chance? I'm weak. I… I've done this._

"No, Peeta…" She struggled to sit up a little and so Peeta pulled her up against his chest. He felt her blood from the wound in her back dampen his shirt as if it were flowing from a faucet. He fought back a shudder as she continued, "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it…"

Peeta clamped down on the spiraling emotions inside him, he needed to be strong, but everything just get spinning out of control, there was no end to the violence and destruction.

"Katniss, that is not—don't say that. You are worth it, for your sister, Gale, your district… for me." He whispered the last part, broken and fearful it wouldn’t be enough.

Katniss' face was paled by the second as she continued to fight with her breathing. She smiled lightly.

“I accepted my role long ago Peeta, that's why I tried to take the spotlight off you. When you—you volunteered you became more than a tribute from 12…" She turned her head to look up at him and held his gaze, trying to communicate what she couldn't say in front of the cameras, not with out putting their lives in greater danger. Words she’d said once before, that he had an effect on people, a power to make a difference. She coughed a little and he hugged her closer, "You c-can't lose. Promise me? For 12? I-I've done my part…"

Peeta sniffled, it was like there was no oxygen in the forest, he couldn't breathe as his eyes stung hot with tears that were close to boiling over.

"Of- Of course, Katniss."

Suddenly her body was wracked with a violent tremor and he tried to hold onto her tightly, begging shamelessly, "Katniss? Katniss! Please, don't leave me." She made a gargled noise and he feared she was choking on her own blood. He looked around in hopelessness, not knowing what to do for her. This isn't happening. It can't, no, just no. He threw his head back trying to clear his mind and looked up at the serene blue sky, it was disconcerting to see that nothing had changed while his very world was crumbling around him. He bit his lip until it bled hoping it would ground him. It was just another injury; they were piling up like old newspapers.

Then he felt his mouth opened and he was signing in a soft voice a song that had been playing in his heart now for weeks:

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

As he finished the first verse he felt Katniss' body relax as she looked at Peeta with tears in her eyes. He could tell she knew this song well. It had a deep meaning for her, he was sure of it. She put her hand in his, a gesture of thanks, a call for strength and love, someone to be with her in these final moments as her eyes connected with his, staring intently. He would not look away, he would be there for her, holding her hand and calming her with his eyes. He would try to imbue her with his remaining strength.

The Mockingjays picked up Peeta's tune and sang it throughout the forest. He felt his voice choke and crack as he moved through the second verse and onto the third, holding Katniss' stare with love:

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where I told you to run so we'd both be free._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

Peeta licked the salty tears from his lips as he cradled Katniss in his arms. Her labored breathing was so shallow he could barely hear it. He wasn't sure he could finish as his own throat constricted menacingly.

"Katniss? Kat...?" He let out a strangled sob as he felt her give one soft squeeze to his hand and then she was gone. The light left her beautiful olive eyes with little warning. Somewhere a cannon sounded as Katniss' life slipped away from him. He felt like he was suffocating as he knew he would never see those eyes, filled with life, looking back at him with annoyance or dripping with sarcasm or how the green in them would intensify when he snuck a laugh out of her unwillingly. He cradled her body close to him as she sagged like a limp rag doll in his arms. He kissed her check and closed both her eyes, then forced himself to finish through the tears:

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…_

Silence. Nothingness. A dark dismal abyss. The Mockingjays tune finally died out with the end of his song, bringing a sense of finality, of death.

_She's gone. She's gone. She's gone_. Peeta kept repeating it over and over in his head. Hoping it would make sense or that something might change. But everything stayed the same. He was still here; Katniss was still lifeless in his arms. Four people now dead since the start of the morning, he couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

"I'm so sorry Katniss. I'm so sorry. I—I promise I'll win this. And I'll take care of your family. Don't worry about them. Everything's going to be better now…" He sobbed out.

He gently laid Katniss down on the ground. Then he took the sword from her clasped hand. She had held tight to it for Peeta, not wanting him to be weaponless. She was always thinking of him and he was always disappointing her. He looked down at his shirt, stained in his and Katniss' blood. He felt the sensations beginning to return to his body, his shoulder throbbed, his cheek burned, his head ached. None of it compared to the pain he felt in his chest, the python that wrapped around his vital organs and constricted until he couldn’t breath.

"AHHHH!" He screamed and stood violently hacking into the trunk of a tree with Cato's sword, each strike sending a fierce reverberation up his arm. Each strike a symbolic blow in his mind against the structure of the Capitol, against its power, against its heartless citizens who cheered on their deaths. Against Stasson and Clove. Against Peeta.

He stopped just as abruptly as he started. He knew Cato would be panicked by now with three cannon fires in the past hour since he had been gone. So he went back to Katniss one more time, folding her hands peacefully across her stomach and then he attached the Mockingjay pin from Riece to her shirt. He wanted to leave her with something of him. He couldn't bear the thought of the hovercraft coming to collect her body and her being all alone as they packaged and shipped her back to his district.

Then he touched his three middle fingers of his left hand to his lips and held them up, for all the cameras to see. For District 12 to see he would take the mantle. For Katniss Everdeen…


	21. Chapter 21

The Games: Day 9 continued

Numb, everything was numb inside his head. Like if his body were reanimated after death, still functioning, but basically lifeless except he could still feel, feel everything with crystal clear lucidity throughout his body. He could still feel the tickle against his skin as blood trickled slowly down his arm, over a nipple or crease in the elbow, from the gash caused by Clove or the arrow to the shoulder by Stasson. His cheek smarted fiercely, but seemed to have clotted for the most part as he worked his way back to the cave instinctively. His head and right eye throbbed with its own heartbeat from Stasson's meaty fists having impacted it multiple times over.

Yet none of it was as painful as the crushing grip that seemed to be ensconced around his heart, like someone had managed to grab hold of his slippery organ and was just squeezing the life from it with hateful glee. Katniss was gone. Peeta was supposed to keep her alive and he had failed. _I'm a failure._ It was the most profound failure of his life and made all the worse when he thought back to the feast and how he should have just killed Clove then. But he was too weak and now Katniss was dead by her hands and inadvertently Peeta's. He could have prevented it.

Suddenly he leaned over to heave what meager food he had for breakfast. Then he stood, wiping he mouth on his sleeve and continued his stumbling walk. It didn't make sense to him. He had never lost someone so close to him before. People died all the time back in District 12 from starvation, black lung, abuse, disease and myriad of other reasons. But his family was lucky enough neither to live in the Seam nor have to work in the mines, which kept them relatively sheltered and safe. He was now beginning to realize just how cruel that shelter was as it crumbled around him in the games.

Tears rained down from his eyes in a never-ending flow, like a summers flash flood. It came with out warning and threatened to drown everything in sight. He knew he couldn't stop. He felt his feet start to pick up the pace as he neared the cave. He knew what he needed. There was only one thing in the world that could make this better, more bearable.

"Peeta? My god, PEETA!" Cato's voice called out to him.

He felt everything getting dark as his vision wavered. Suddenly Cato's beautiful face was before him, calling out to him in a stricken voice. But Peeta couldn't answer. His voice was caught in his throat with his emotions. He collapsed into Cato's warm arms and thought: _with him I'll make it._

Cato scooped Peeta up in his arms with out hesitation. Just being off his feet was a relief. It was like Cato had reached down from the heavens to pluck Peeta from the purgatory that his body and mind were trapped. He focused on returning his breath to a normal pace and quieting the leaking tears.

"Cato, Katniss i-is dead… dead. We… we have to win." He said weakly into Cato's shoulder as he waded through the river to the cave.

"Of course Peeta, nothing will stop us." Cato halted briefly at the news, then replied.

Once returned to the sanctuary given to them by the cave Cato helped Peeta take long and slow drinks of water from the canteen as he worked to apply the last of his own medicinal ointment to Peeta's wounds. He lathered most of it on Peeta's nasty arrow puncture, then a little to his cheek and arm, where they immediately stopped stinging. He groaned in relief. He just wished his head felt better, physically and emotionally. He opened his good eye and looked at Cato fully for the first time, drinking in the lustrous sight. His strong jaw line, the blonde hair made dirtier by more than a week with no shower, the enthralling hazel eyes filled with love and worry, his smooth skin…

"Just looking at you is enough to cure me."

"Peeta…” Cato only smiled a little, “Do you know how—I was absolutely terrified. There were so many cannons in barely a few minutes time. I tried to search for you, but I had no weapon and realized if you came back hurt and I wasn't here… What _happened_?"

Peeta tried to stop it, but it was all too recent. Once he thought back to it everything snowballed. The tears came flooding back as he chocked on his sobs. Cato pulled him in to a tight embrace, showering the top of his head, his forehead, his watery eyes all with loving kisses.

"Baby, it's ok. You're safe now. I've got you. I'm never letting you go again."

"Y-you promise? I can't lo-ose you too." Peeta said through hiccups, looking up at Cato desperately.

Cato nodded his head vigorously and kissed Peeta lightly on the lips, "Cross my heart."

The kiss was exactly what the doctor ordered. Cato's tender lips on his calmed his overwrought body and teased the serotonin from his brain, bringing him to a light and tingly place worlds better than the hell he had been trapped in moments before. They broke apart when a parachute glided to a stop at the mouth of the cave like an unexpected guest, waiting to be granted invitation into their home. Cato fetched it and handed it to Peeta.

"I'm sure it's for you."

Peeta held the tin in his hand and felt the substantial heft of it. He wondered what Haymitch could be sending, there had been enough medicine left to treat his wounds. When he pulled the lid off with a pop of the tin he found inside exactly what he needed, what they both needed. Food. Warm bread and some cured meats. He let out another stifled sob.

"What is it Peeta?" Cato asked worriedly as he checked the contents for offense.

"It-it's from District 12. It's our common drop biscuits..."

Peeta held one of the warm biscuits in his sore and dirty fingers. This was literally the last thing he expected. But there it was, proof that his district had not turned on him. Even after coming out to the whole of Panem and engaging in a relationship with a Career from 2. This gift had to cost a substantial amount this late in the game. The bread from his home district was a sign. That they had sent it, that they stood with him and supported him. Katniss may be gone, but he was still their boy on fire, their hope. Riece's words rung with truth in his ears, _all of district 12 will be rooting for you._

Overcome with emotions and the tragic turn of events from the morning Peeta gladly filled his stomach with the gift from his district as distraction, making sure to give more to Cato. He was after all still recovering from a much worse attack. Then he filled Cato in on what occurred earlier when he had gone to check the snares.

How he thought Katniss and Rue must have found his snare and were going to take the rabbit for themselves when Stasson and Clove found them. Stasson killed Rue with Marvel's spear and then they took Katniss, hoping to use her against Peeta. When Peeta got to the part where he gave chase after the trail Cato growled in dissatisfaction. But it was too late to chastise, what was done was done.

"I f-found Katniss tied to a tree. It was an ambush like expected. I guess it's a miracle I even made it out alive…"

Cato must have been greatly disturbed by the thought of losing Peeta as he dropped his reprimands and continued to hold Peeta close while picking at his biscuit. Peeta rubbed his bloodshot eyes. They were so sore from crying, again, while he retold this story. He didn't really describe to Cato exactly what happened when Katniss died, feeling like the song was a personal moment between Katniss and he. Peeta knew the Capitol would have never allowed that part to be broadcast, the audience may have caught the first few lines and so District 12 probably knew what he was singing, but once it became clear to the Capitol they probably switched to another feed in the arena. Maybe that is what triggered them to rally around Peeta and send the gift? He couldn’t tell, but either way he was grateful.

Cato was most intrigued by Thresh's appearance.

"I wonder what was going on between the two of them."

Peeta shrugged with indifference.

"We'll probably never know. One of them is dead now for sure. Think we'll be safe for the night?" Peeta asked.

"With so much blood shed today I'm sure the Gamemakers will wait a bit before driving us together to end the games." Cato nodded.


	22. Chapter 22

Day 10

The previous night they learned Stasson was the one to walk away alive from the battle. Thresh had unintentionally given his life to save Peeta's when he intervened in the fight with Stasson. Then seeing Katniss' image reflected back to him from the sky was like another punch in the gut from Stasson. But Peeta had made a promise to himself: he would not linger on her death. He had a few more hours of grief with Cato in the cave while sleep evaded him, but after his fill of bread and cured meats courtesy of District 12 he realized there were only four tributes left and he needed to focus on the task ahead: winning. If he made it through then he could try to process everything else.

Stasson, Cato, Peeta and that girl from 5 were all that was left. Five was out there somewhere, stealthy and avoiding everyone at all costs to survive. He wondered how she was doing it. He couldn't think of anyone who had seen her since Katniss bumped heads with her at the start of the games and that brief moment at the feast. She must have expert survival skills to go unseen almost the entire game and also manage to stay well fed. And then there was Stasson, seemingly unstoppable. He terrified Peeta more than anything and made him worry how it would all end. They could take the sly fox from 5, but Stasson managed to fight his way out alive from every encounter they had, usually no worse for the wear. Peeta hoped Thresh had got in enough blows to slow Stasson. A weakened Stasson may be their only shot at victory.

The sun had risen with its bright rays lighting the sky and bringing with it the hope of a better day. But Peeta knew it was a false hope, like all the sunrises before, it only promised to bring more death and mayhem, more bloodshed. And so it was time to start their day. They both had saved a biscuit and some cured ham for breakfast. But after that they would be back to square one with food. Peeta’s head still throbbed and the arrow puncture had closed on the surface, but was still shredded from Stasson’s torture just beneath the surface. It only looked like a small clotted puncture wound now with the skin around it a raw pink, but Peeta knew better. Moving his shoulder caused some pain and the fabric of his shirt against it was uncomfortable, but he was right handed so it shouldn't get in the way if there was a fight. Cato was going to be carrying the sword anyways.

Cato lead the way out of the cave, like some chivalrous knight with the perfect posture and air of authority, ready to face dragons for his fellow prince. It seemed they continued to switch places with each other constantly, one incapacitated by injuries the other taking role of protector. Peeta was a little annoyed by it, especially so when Cato insisted on carrying Peeta across the river. It felt like a dig at his dignity and capabilities.

"Cato, I'm not going to break! I am perfectly capable of wading through water on my own." He said resentfully after pushing Cato off him and then proceeded to march to the riverbank on his own.

When he was free of the water and kicked his shoes clean of the mud that clung to his boots he turned to see Cato still behind him, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry Cato. I know you're trying to be helpful… I'm just being a dick over… everything. It's not your fault."

He held out his hand for Cato, "I could use a hand to hold though…"

Cato brightened at the gesture and took Peeta's hand in his left, his right taut and flexed with the clutch of his sword, ready for battle at a moments notice. Peeta swung their clasped hands to and fro as they walked into the woods. He figured they should check the two snares he did manage to reset for any food and also gather what ever else they could find to build a stash so they could carry it with them. There was no point deluding their selves anymore with a false sense of safety in the cave. This late in the game it was a trap, an inescapable dead end. Time to be on the move, ready for what would inevitably come.

The walk itself was nice. They continued in silence and Peeta felt a little guilty as it was his fault for being so harsh with Cato that he was now so quiet. But at the same time he was content, it was nice to know they could still be together and just enjoy the presence of each others company, like they did those first few nights on the rooftop garden. Nothing more needed than interlaced fingers. It was almost enough to make him forget the horror of yesterday. Peeta wondered if it was some cosmic punishment. Like he was never allowed to be too happy. The night he was reunited with Cato in the games after the tracker-jackers he had never been so happy and they had shared a moment of passion, the following morning Cato got impaled. Then the day before yesterday they had made love for the first time and it was more than he could have ever dreamed it would have been. The very next morning Katniss died in his arms.

"Peeta, are you ok?"

Peeta loosened his grip on Cato, not having realized how tightly he had been clamping down.

"Ah, sorry. Just… thinking about things."

Cato stopped and gripped both of Peeta's shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. Cato's hazel ones refracted the light from the sun in a dazzling display of warmth and serenity. They imbued him with the hope and love he desperately needed.

"There are only two other tributes left.” Said Cato, “We have a fifty-fifty shot of making it out of this alive. That's better than any odds I've ever known in these games. I love you. Your district loves you, Haymitch loves you and Katniss loves you. She may be gone, but she will forever be with you. You will carry her spirit with you on into the Victory tour and forever after that. She will not be forgotten or lost to you. I promise you that."

Peeta decided then that the hole left in his heart from the loss of Katniss could be filled. Cato was right, she may be gone but he could carry her on with him. He could stitch closed the wound in his heart with the memories of Katniss and hold them all together with his love for her. He would win this for Katniss, for District 12 and together with his love, Cato. He couldn't survive any other outcome.

"Thank you, Cato. You know just what to say to make me feel better."

They found Peeta's snare and he was elated to find a small rodent in it. Peeta also noticed many bushes dotted with small fruits around them.

"Cato want to collect some of the berries on the bushes? I'm going to kill this thing and then reset the snare."

It really grossed Peeta out to have to grab the rodent, which squeaked and squealed in fear as he got a firm grip on it's neck and twisted in one swift motion.

"Sorry little guy." It felt oddly reminiscent of another time when Peeta had said these words to an animal they killed for food. He watched Cato closely and scanned the area around them for danger. They would not be taken by surprise again.

He stuffed the animal into his backpack and wiped his hands clean, worried about any diseases the it might have been carrying on its fur.

Cato had lain down his jacket and was busy filling it with berries he had found on some vines at the foot of a tree. Peeta then set about resetting his snare. Katniss would have been proud. He felt proud of himself that he had learned such a valuable skill during training. He never expected to have become so self-sufficient in the woods, having been a relatively pampered as a baker’s son. But here he was providing food for Cato from traps he had set in the woods.

BOOM!

Peeta's heart about exploded, as he jumped up with a scream, "NO!" He had only turned his back on Cato for a few seconds. Just to reset the snare, he couldn't have been attacked in that time. But he was quickly met with the bewildered stare of a very much living and breathing Cato. He was still over by the bushes collecting fistfuls of berries.

"It wasn't me." He ran to Peeta's side, sword at the ready and searching.

Peeta scanned the area for danger but they found none, he was so fucking tired of that cannon. That's when Cato noticed.

"Hey, I picked more fruit than that."

He pointed to his jacket with his sword. Peeta looked closely but he couldn't tell if some fruit had been swiped, not knowing how much had been in there to begin with, but he saw something much more worrisome.

"Cato! Most of those berries are nightlock! They're extremely poisonous, one berry and you're dead in seconds!" Peeta slapped the fistful of berries he still held from his hand.

"Shit, sorry! I’m, uh, not too knowledgeable on those things. We move out."

As they left the location of Peeta's snare they stumbled upon it. The emaciated body of the girl from 5 was sprawled dead in the dirt before them. She must have been following them desperate for food and then stole their fruit, thinking it was edible as Cato collected it. He felt sorry for her. Her bright red hair so flat and dull in color, her cheeks sunken, and the red stain of the nightlock berries on her lips. There were still more clutched in her hand.

"Poor girl," Cato remarked. "By the looks of it starvation would have got her soon anyways."

Peeta leaned down and plucked from her fist some of the nightlock berries, pocketing them in the pouch on his shirt. They were very similar in shape to blueberries and black in color with a deep red died juice. He wasn't sure why he took them, but something told him they could prove useful and he wasn't about to leave any stone unturned.

"I have one other snare set. Lets go check it quickly—" Peeta stopped and grabbed Cato's hand in his as his heart beat started to rise.

The sun had been just starting to reach the middle of its trek across the sky when all of a sudden it began to drop back down below the horizon at disorienting speed. It was as if some invisible force had risen up and wrapped its hand around the sun, dragging the sun back to its nightly bed. The air in the arena perceptibly changed in a matter of minutes as darkness enveloped them cold streaming in to fill the gaps left by the light.

"What's happening?" Peeta asked in bewilderment.

It was terrifying as they waited, wondering what the Gamemakers were plotting. Peeta urged his eyes to adjust to the darkness quickly; he didn't know what might be coming their way, definitely not a fire. Cato swiveled so they were back-to-back, ready to face an attack from either side. A terrifying howl ripped across the arena and made Peeta shiver. He had heard stories as a child of the terrifying monsters that lived outside of their District and were supposedly the reason for the fence. But he had never seen any of the creatures and figured they were just a story created by the Capitol, another means to control them. But maybe there were creatures, monstrous muttations the Capitol had inadvertently created during the war that now lived in the woods. That now stalked them in the arena.

"AAARRGG!" A violent scream tore out from the darkness and Peeta blanched. That had to be Stasson's scream no one else was left. But no cannon fire followed. _What was happening?_ Peeta wondered in trepidation.

"What is that?" Cato suddenly asked and he stepped away from Peeta's back.

"N-no!" Peeta protested, afraid to get separated from him. Except before he could turn to see what Cato was investigating he saw something too, a light reflected from the bushes just ahead of him. He leaned forward as he thought there was something familiar about it when suddenly a giant beastly mass lunged from the bushes at him with a ferocious roar.


	23. Chapter 23

End of Games: Day 10 continued…

The beast landed with the impact of a wrecking ball knocking Peeta backwards and flat on his ass. The razor sharp claws of the animal dug into his chest, holding him firmly in place as he cried out in pain. It had a flattened snout and foamed at the mouth. Its ferocious white fangs gleamed in the subtle moonlight. It felt like a boulder had landed on his chest. Peeta couldn't move. He stared down the terrifying snout and noticed what had drawn his attention to the beastly dog in the first place. It had the deep olive eyes of Katniss. Peeta felt the acid from his stomach creep into the back of his throat. The Capitol had created muttations that were based off dead tributes.

As the mutt tried to clamp down on Peeta's neck Cato dove on top of the beast and brought his sword down with a feral cry into its neck. The mutt howled viciously and to their shock stood upright on its hind legs, coming to about five feet tall, throwing Cato from its back. He landed with a thud against a tree.

Peeta took the opening given by Cato to quickly scramble to his feet. Then he rushed to Cato helping him up as the mutt thrashed violently until the sword fell from its neck. Cato fumbled to retrieve it before the beast regained its senses.

"Follow me, now!"

They took off running as the mutt shook its head much like a dog would and then charged after them back on all fours. It's well muscled legs allowing it to keep a close pace on them.

"We'll never outrun it for long!" Peeta fretted as they ran through the dark forest.

Howls could be heard echoing throughout the arena when suddenly there were three more mutts on their tails.

"Fuck, come on, faster!" Cato grabbed Peeta's hand to guide him as they sprinted for their lives. Peeta prayed neither of them would trip up on a branch or rock. One slight stumble and the mutts would be upon them, shredding them with their long razor-sharp claws and fangs.

It didn't seem fair to unleash these creations on them. Cato had stabbed the beast in the neck and it was still chasing them down at break neck speed. Worst of all, the animal had Katniss' eyes. If Peeta took the time to look he was sure he would find the rest of the mutts had the eyes of other tributes. It was a terrifying visual to see the eyes of his dead friend on the face of a monstrosity created by the Capitol. They managed to mutilate and destroy everything they touched. It disturbed Peeta to think a Capitol created muttation of his friend would be what denied his and Cato's chance at victory.

Peeta's legs started to strain from all the stress to them. He had been flat out sprinting a lot these past few days and his body was still not fully healed from Stasson's attack. He wondered how much more he had left in him or was there really a limit at which point once crossed his body would just give up and shut down like an overheated computer. Luckily Peeta finally saw their destination. Cato was leading them to the Cornucopia. It was the only structure in the whole arena that could offer them protection from the mutts, if they could get atop it before the beasts were on them.

Once they broke free of the woods and out into the open clearing where the Cornucopia was located Peeta saw another group of Mutts flanking them from the right. Their giant clawed paws tore into the ground propelling them towards Peeta and Cato with foaming maws open wide and ready.

"Cato we're not going to make it!" Peeta shouted in fear.

Cato just responded by digging his heels in harder as he sprinted to the golden horn and Peeta thought his sore arm was going to tear from its socket.

"Just a little more, come on Peeta!"

They reached the Cornucopia with seconds to spare as they were hounded in close pursuit by the vicious mutts. Their snarling barks grew louder and increased in number as more joined the pack. Cato threw his sword atop the structure then turned and cupped his hands on bended knee offering a platform to stand on.

"Hurry!"

Peeta put his foot in Cato's cupped hands and then jumped with outstretched hands as Cato flung him up onto the Cornucopia. The smooth metal surface gave no purchase, but luckily with Cato's height and push he was able to clamber on top of the structure with relative ease. He then spun around and clasped Cato's extended hand, pulling him up. But a mutt appeared from the other side of the Cornucopia with the same deep brooding eyes as Thresh and tore into Cato's back with its razor edged talons.

"AH!" Cato screamed out in pain, as the flesh on his back was torn open.

Peeta pulled with all his might, even as his shoulder screamed in searing pain where the arrow had punctured him. The delicate flesh may have torn back open, but it didn't matter to Peeta at the moment. He had to get Cato up onto the Cornucopia.

"You can't have him!" Peeta screamed at the muttations. He reached back for the sword Cato had tossed up. The beast had one clawed paw in Cato's back, pulling him back down, while it stood on its hind legs. The other mutts tore around the edges of the Cornucopia, their talons making terrible screeching sounds against the metal while they tried to jump up, their jaws snapping shut with bone breaking clacks.

Peeta finally got his fingers around the hilt of the sword and plunged it forward and into the face of the Thresh mutt. It yelped in pain and released its clutch on Cato's back. He let out a stifled cry of pain as Peeta finally pulled the rest of his body up and over the edge of the golden horned structure.

They collapsed side by side panting in exhaustion and throbbing pain. Peeta stared into Cato's pain stricken eyes with sympathy.

"Hey, we made it." They were going to live.

Cato laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"Yeah, we sure did. Now what do we do?"

Peeta sat up and pulled the pack off his back, "Well luckily I still have one of the bandages saved in here. Lets clean your back, shall we?"

He leaned over Cato, who was now lying on his stomach, and observed his fresh lacerations. There were four large gashes down his back from the muttations claws; the skin was peeled open and oozing blood. Peeta cringed at the sight of them. He had seen Cato bleed one too many times. But luckily they weren't too deep except for the bottom of the cuts where the monster had dug its claws in to hold Cato.

The bandage wasn't large enough to cover the whole of his back where the talons had raked down, so he placed it near the bottom where they were the deepest, when suddenly he was felt his head explode open. His vision went dark as he slid across the cool metal surface of the Cornucopia. His head felt like it had been cleaved open like the young girls in the bloodbath. His hands were numb, his ears rang with deafening percussions, and he felt something hot trickling down the back of his neck. He layed their trying to comprehend what had just happened. But his thoughts all remained just above his grasp like wisps of smoke. He wanted to scream in pain, but was unable to make a sound. Nothing but chocked air slipped from his contracting lungs. It was like a nightmare he once had where he was going to be killed and all he had to do was scream out for help to get the attention of those nearby, but nothing came out no matter how hard he tried, just raspy whimpers. But maybe he wasn't trying. He couldn't quite get control over anything.

Then just as suddenly all his senses came flooding back to him, overwhelming him with the reality of his pain. His head throbbed like it might actually pop from the pressure while he heard Cato screaming expletives.

"Shit, PEETA! Get the hell away from him you motherfucker! Don’t you _touch_ him!"

The mutts continued to howl in the background while Peeta groaned feebly and rolled over onto his back only to find the bloodied figure of Stasson towering over him with his hammer.

"Surprise." Stasson smirked devilishly. 

He then flipped his hammer arrogantly and brought it down with an arcing swing to smash at the center of Peeta's chest. He felt as if his heart might have stopped from the impact as the air was knocked from his lungs. A blood-curdling scream pierced through the air and Peeta was startled to realize it was his own, but then he panicked, as he couldn't refill his lungs with air. Everything went out with that one sound. He gasped violently for a breath that would not come to him. He was drowning on dry land.

"It's time we finished our own fight!" Before Stasson could land another debilitating blow Cato tackled him from behind. They both fell to the ground, thrashing about as they tried to get the upper hand. The hammer flew from Stasson's grip unexpectedly as they wrestled for power. Peeta tried to sit up, but his vision still weaved about uncomfortably as his head throbbed and he struggled to breath deep. He put his hand to the back of his neck and found it covered in blood.

"Peeta get the sword!" Cato shouted as Stasson landed a punch to his gut, knocking him back.

Peeta searched about for the sword he had used to pierce the muttation only moments before and found it near the edge of the Cornucopia where they had climbed up. He managed to stand up, but felt his head swim and the pulse of his heart wavered ominously. Peeta then limped pathetically towards the sword, but was tackled to the ground as Stasson tried to rush for the weapon. They both clambered over each other, hands pushed against faces, elbows thrown into ribcages and a knee to the groin as hands outstretched for the sword, only knocking it further from both their reach and to the very edge of the structure.

Stasson changed tactics and wrapped his meaty hands around Peeta's throat, choking him. Suddenly and thankfully Stasson was ripped off of Peeta as Cato got back into the fight. If Peeta could just get the sword they would have the upper hand. They could end this and win. But suddenly a mutt jumped up, desperately trying to get atop the golden horn, but was unable to get purchase with it's claws against the smooth surface and fell back down.

"Oh fuck it!" Peeta yelled in exasperation as the mutt's paw dragged the sword down and over the ledge with it.

Peeta briefly wondered why he wasn't unconscious. He would take the small miracle though; he couldn't leave Cato to take on Stasson by himself. So pulled himself back up and turned around to help Cato when he saw Stasson had managed to get his hammer back and nail Cato right in the back where his gashes were. Cato crumpled to the ground and gasped for breath, the wind having been knocked out of him too.

Stasson laughed like a mad man completely lost in his bloodlust as he stood over Cato's crumpled form. Peeta charged him with complete disregard for the debilitating pain in his head and chest. Stasson was going to land another blow to Cato with his war hammer when Peeta tackled him. He punched him once, hard, to the face as his thighs gripped on either side of Stasson's body to hold him in place. Then he lunged for Stasson's right arm with both his hands and bashed it against the metal roof of the Cornucopia until he let go of the hammer with a cry. Before Peeta could do anything with it Stasson lurched forward, throwing Peeta from his body and then put him in a chokehold from behind, his large muscled arm crushing into Peeta's windpipe.

Cato had regained his breath and was now in possession of the war hammer. But it was too late now as a standoff unfolded. Cato looked on helplessly with the only weapon left to them while Stasson held Peeta hostage, choking the life from him and backing slowly towards the edge of the structure. When the muttations could see them their howling and whining increased as they sensed bloodshed drawing near.

"Let him go Stasson!" Cato shouted.

"Oh I intend to, right over the edge." Stasson grinned.

"No! Please! We can work this out. There can be two winners. Kill me." Cato begged and stepped slowly towards Stasson.

"Step back! I'll snap his neck before you have time to lift my hammer. I don't share. I will be the sole victor besides it would break the rules. So sorry, but you're both going to have to die." Stasson barked and shook his head.

Peeta was struggling against his captor, but that only increased the pressure on his windpipe to a crushing degree. He looked at Cato desperately and prayed he wouldn't do something stupid to endanger his own life. He couldn't be responsible for Cato's death too.

Stasson's hot breath tickled Peeta's ear as he leaned in to whisper, "I've almost kept my promise. Did you like the knife I left in her back for you? Now I just have to finish you off and its all done."

If Peeta wasn't already struggling for air he would have choked, _what did he mean? He killed Katniss?_ Cato watched their interaction closely with an analytical eye. He seemed to be trying to work a way out of this with little hope.

Peeta could feel Stasson's smug grin against his ear.

"Oh you didn't think Clove did that? No when you two were trying to run from us I got one of Clove's disarmed knives and nailed Katpiss right in the back. Clove tried to get you and missed of course. I do congratulate you on spearing her like that though. Great job. Saved me the hassle of doing it later."

Peeta felt a boiling rage building up in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Cato and then motioned with his eye towards the hammer. Cato looked between the hammer and Peeta perplexed.

"Go to hell, Stasson." Peeta managed to spit out.

He chuckled that sadistic laugh one more time as he rubbed his crotch against Peeta's ass teasingly, getting off on the power he held.

"I do admire your fight, lover boy."

It was the final straw. Peeta pushed back into Stasson and wanted to vomit from the growing arousal he felt. It was the ultimate violation. He used the extra room given to him by his slight hunch to jab Stasson in the kidney loosening the grip around his neck and giving Peeta the perfect amount of leeway to slam his head back into Stasson's. He felt a crack and hear Stasson cuss in pain. Then Peeta gripped and twisted Stasson's arm off from around his neck, finally freeing himself.

He sucked in copious amounts of air as he shouted, "Hammer!"

Cato threw it up in the air and Peeta caught it with ease, quickly swinging it around and into Stasson's gut with satisfaction. Stasson doubled over, hands clasped to his stomach, as he wheezed for breath. Blood dripped from his broken nose.

"That was for Katniss, mother fucker. This one's from me."

Peeta then swung the hammer in an underhanded motion directly up into Stasson's crooked jaw with all his might. Peeta felt all of his anger and hate towards Stasson, all the pain and loss he had suffered, and all of his remaining strength imbued in the iron head of the hammer. He felt the jolt up his arm to his shoulder as it connected with Stasson's meaty head driving him backwards and sprawling out on his back. His head hung precariously over the ledge as the rabid beasts howled and thrashed with craze at the sight. Peeta suddenly lost himself as he was overcome by the grief of losing Katniss, at the pain caused to him throughout this game by Stasson. He brought the hammer down repeatedly against Stasson's broad chest. They were close. He could feel the end coming. Stasson never screamed once during the punishment brought upon him. Peeta could hear loud and revolting cracks as Stasson's ribs broke and cracked from the iron hammer. Blood sprayed back with each impact into Peeta's face yet he never flinched. Not until he heard the ragged and strangled breath emanating from Stasson.

The hammer halted mid-swing as he made contact with Stasson's dark eyes. This time they weren't filled with rage or bloodlust, but a profound sadness. It shook Peeta and made him hesitate. It made him question what he was doing.

"Please… Please j-just stop…" Stasson pleaded. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth and nose. "Stop me."

Peeta looked to the blood soaked hammer in his hand and then to the crushed chest of Stasson. The fact that Peeta had done that churned his stomach and he dropped the hammer as if it had scalded him. A hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Let me. I was trained for this."

Cato reached down to grab the gory weapon and Peeta gladly handed it over. Stasson's breath came fast and shallow like the heated pant of an overworked dog. Peeta never thought he could pity Stasson but in this moment he did. The Capitol created Stasson just like a muttation; he only ever had one objective in life with no hope of more. Peeta looked away and only heard the final two blows it took to bring on the last cannon fire of the game. Peeta felt the tension leave his body and a wave of relief wash over him, soothing his aching muscles. The nightmare was over.

Peeta turned back around and right into Cato's opened arms. He felt the warmth of Cato's blood on his arms from the gashes to Cato's back as he hugged him tight, but it was over. Stasson was dead. Cato finished him. They had won. _We won!_ It slowly started to sink in. _We're victors, the first pair the Hunger Games have ever had!_ His mind raced with the possibilities like going home together, meeting Cato's firecracker of a sister, Cassadine, and touring District 2. Seeing where Cato grew up and what had shaped him. Spending every night with the man he loved and no more fear of dying for the pleasure of a cruel Capitol populace. No more cameras watching his every move!

"Peeta it's over. We won! We did it!" Cato whooped and pulled Peeta's face up with his hand and kissed him passionately, moving against Peeta's willing mouth as the sky brightened rapidly around them with the rising sun. Their kisses always restored what was right and true.

The muttations disappeared with the darkness and the arena went eerily quiet. Tension began to creep its way back into Peeta's body unwillingly, like a cold draft in his bedroom during a harsh winter. Where had the warmth gone? Why hadn't Claudius immediately announced them as victors? Maybe they had to move away from Stasson's body so it could be collected.

"Lets get down from here. My head is killing me," Peeta said.

Cato jumped down from the Cornucopia and helped gently lift Peeta down to the ground when Claudius Templesmith's crystal clear voice rang out all around them. _Finally!_

"Good evening to the remaining tributes of the 74th Hunger Games. The previous revision to the rules has been revoked. Upon further examination of the rules it has been determined there can only be one victor. Thank you and may the odds be ever in your favor."

It was a cruel joke. Peeta couldn't think. He didn't have time to think. _No, no, why are they doing this?_ Cato practically dropped Peeta in shock and he almost fell to the ground, unable to hold himself up his body was so weak. His bruised chest ached angrily and his heart beat warily. Luckily he kept his grip on Cato as his nails dug into the skin of Cato's arms.

"C-Cato…" Peeta stuttered.

Cato shook his head. His hazel eyes glinted with unshed tears. Peeta could feel it, deep in his chest. His heart was breaking. The Gamemakers had played the cruelest trick on them imaginable. They had given them hope; promise of a future together, even let them win, only to rip it from them at the last second. The audience was sure to be reeling from the twist just thrown their way.

Cato leaned over to pick up the sword that had been dragged off the Cornucopia and handed it to Peeta.

"You have to do it. You know this is how it has to be. I'm not the champion."

Peeta tried to push the sword away, but Cato grabbed him violently and shook him.

"Do not fight me on this! I'll take my own life if you don't."

Peeta shivered from his toes all the way to his head. He couldn't live with out Cato. There was no way he could kill the man he loved and there was no way he could let him take his own life. So much had changed since he had met him. Peeta remembered the boy he was when he volunteered. The weak boy who had given up on life, who thought there was nothing life had left to offer except pain and suffering. But he was wrong, so wrong. He made a true friend in Katniss, he became a symbol for his district and he fell in love. He wasn't that pathetic friendless boy stuck in the mines because of his cruel brothers. He wasn't a whipping post for his mother. He wasn't invisible like his father pretended.

"I want us to live Cato!" Peeta cried out. He took the sword from Cato's hand and then proceeded to toss it up onto the roof of the Cornucopia where it settled with a harsh clang making both twitch from the startlingly loud sound in the silence of the arena. "But since that's not possible, maybe…"

Peeta could feel them in the pocket on his breast. They felt supernaturally heavy, as if they were small boulders instead of just tiny berries, but the weight of what they meant was crushing. The situation was insurmountable. Peeta realized they never could have both left this arena alive. He knew it all along; it was why his mind kept wondering to the Hanging Tree. He could still rebel in the presence of this atrocity. Spit in the face of the Capitol and leave this arena with his love, just not alive. Like the man sang out in the song: _Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._ Join me in escape. Let's rebel together.

Maybe he could let Cato take his own life. They could only be together in death, like the man in the song knew, his life and love were the only possible catalyst for revolution. Peeta's heart splintered at its veracity. He reached for his pocket as he gazed into Cato's perplexed eyes and pulled out the nightlock. Then he pulled Cato close, whispering in his ear with a startlingly calm voice, "If we can't win together then they wont have any victor."

Strange things really had happen at that tree on the rooftop. Peeta found a lover, found his strength to live and his defiant spirit. Yet the man who wants to begin a rebellion knows he must become a martyr for the cause. He was the boy on fire and his death could light the spark of change. If by depriving the Gamemakers of a winner being his last act of defiance then Peeta could do it and then he would never have to live with out his Cato. He was sorry he couldn't win this for Katniss, but she would have understood, if this was what it took to convince people to dissent the Capitols iron clad rule as they watched young love snuffed out before their very eyes.

He dropped three of the poisonous nightlock berries into Cato's hands. Cato moaned, the reality of their situation sinking in as each small fruit fell into his palm.

"Peeta, love, are you sure? You can win this, go on and become something. There's nothing out there for me with out you."

Peeta planted a tender and lingering kiss upon Cato's lips for the last time. He never wanted it to end wishing he could live forever in the moment of their kisses. "I was always meant to die in these games. Trust me… together on three."

Peeta's heart pounded horribly in his chest like it was trying to break free to stop him. Cato's free hand slipped into his and they clasped together tightly. The two star-crossed lovers from the 74th Hunger Games were finally meeting their tragic end. A tear ran down his cheek as they held the berries out before themselves, Peeta's body was unnaturally drenched in sweat as his breathing increased rapidly.

"One." Peeta whispered.

He wondered if the audience and Gamemakers had caught on to the situation unfolding before them yet. It had barely been a minute since Claudius' announcement, but it felt like a century as they realized life could not go on with out the other. Peeta secretly hoped the Gamemakers would try to intervene, not wanting to be bested by a tribute from 12, but he knew only pain and suffering awaited them outside the arena now.

"Two" Cato spoke softly, holding contact with Peeta's quivering blue eyes.

Cato's hand trembled in his and Peeta's legs shook unevenly. Peeta's heart was about to break; the pain in his chest was so unbearable he got lightheaded.

Peeta and Cato choked out in unison, "Three."

They both brought the berries to their lips, love and pain reflected back and forth between their eyes, and then opened up. A voice rang out through the arena, but Peeta could not comprehend with deaf ears. The only thing he could focus on was the beautiful man before him and that was the last thing he wanted to know before the darkness overtook him. The nightlock burst on his tongue and tasted sweeter than he expected assuaging fears of what was to come next, but he would never know as it all ended with a violent convulsion. His heartbeat stopped. He held on to the warmth in his heart that was the love he felt for Cato knowing it would be with him on this final journey as his body froze. Then the boy on fires flame flickered out.


	24. Chapter 24

After the Games:

"Stop! Stop, we have revised the rules once again to allow two winners. Congratulations to Cato Ryves and Peeta Mellark, victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the arena in urgency.

Cato threw the deadly berries from his mouth in a spastic motion as his eyes popped open at the realization they had won. He felt a wave of elation and relief crash down on him as he comprehension dawned on him that their attempt to deny the Gamemakers any victor had guaranteed they would both win. The Capitol couldn't let the Districts see them be outmaneuvered like that and be made a fool of in their games. Peeta was so intuitive sometimes it scared him. _We won!_ He felt like whooping and hollering like a fool. It was better than beating Stasson and sex combined, because they got to live, both of them, together. If he weren't so absolutely thrashed he would have started the celebratory sex then and there.

Except before Cato could say or do anything to Peeta—hug and grope or kiss and jump for joy with his precious boy on fire—Cato noticed Peeta had not heard the announcement. The berries were still in his mouth. He had eaten the nightlock!

Cato looked on in hopeless horror as Peeta’s body convulsed in terrifying jolts like someone had tied a rope around his chest and tugged at it from be hind in sharp jabs. Then everything stopped and he froze. Cato tried to run to him, scream at him, to make him vomit it back up, to hold him, but he was paralyzed too. He couldn’t even blink. _No, fuck, no. Peeta! What's happening?_ He screamed in the prison of his mind. Cato’s hazel eyes cried out in fear and pain for Peeta, immobilized. Then he realized they were stuck in the tractor beam from a hovercraft that had appeared above them. It held both of them in place as it lifted them up into the air.

Cato felt his blood boil as if molten lava were flowing through his veins. He was enraged with the Capitol for making it come down to this and at Peeta for not being more aware of what was happening around him. _How could he have not heard Claudius' announcement?_ He prayed that maybe this beam that had them both frozen stopped the nightlock poison from entering his system. It was the only thing he could hope for. _Maybe, just maybe they can save him. Hold on Peeta, please!_

But then Cato remembered that terrible seizure that overcame Peeta and he knew something awful had happened. Even with all the injuries he had sustained in the final battle his heart ached the most. He feared the worst. It was a special kind of hell as they were slowly lifted into the holding bay, like someone had pressed pause in the middle of a shows climax and he was stuck, unable to move forward, to try to reach some resolution with Peeta alive and well. He was forced to wait until the viewer decided to press play and let the horror resume.

Once aboard the hovercraft all hell broke loose as the big iron jaws of the bay door slammed closed. Medical personnel ran about everywhere shouting orders as nurses in cold metallic blue uniforms collected Peeta, who was now unfrozen but still just as motionless. A group of Peacekeepers tried to pull Cato in a different direction. Cato was not having any of it.

"Peeta! Peeta, please wake up!" He screamed as he fought off the three Peacekeepers who dared to try and keep him from Peeta.

Punching one in the face Cato felt the man’s nose crack from the impact as he collapsed to the floor. He swiveled and kneed another in the groin; he didn't care if it was a low shot no one was going to stop him from being by Peeta's side. He couldn't loose him, not now, not when they were the victors. The Gamemakers couldn't take that from them now.

Cato broke free of the last Peacekeepers grip with a head butt that may have only added to the multiple concussions he had probably received today, but it took the peacekeeper out and cleared Cato's path. He ran towards the door Peeta was taken through, but once inside he found that he was separated from Peeta by a thick glass wall in a large medical bay. He couldn't get the door to open. There was no handle. His fingers scrabbled against the smooth glass looking for purchase, some indentation to grab hold of and rip open the door. Cato had promised Peeta he would never let him go. Now he was being forcefully separated from Peeta while he may be dying.

A wild frenzy overtook Cato’s beleaguered body. A terrible beastly creature in the pit of his stomach rose up and he started to pound against the glass with his fist, releasing warbled thuds.

"Peeta! I'm here! I'm not going anywhere!” Roared Cato. “You're gonna be okay…"

Cato then watched distraught as the doctors worked in a hurried whirlwind over Peeta. Nurses jabbed him with needles and attached different IV's and wires to his arms and chest. Weird machines that made no sense to Cato beeped and whirred and blinked while more troubling metallic utensils were rushed into the surgical area. Cato continued to pound his fists against the glass with out regard to the damage he must have been doing to them. A few startled nurses watched him from the corner of their eyes, but otherwise no one made a move to address Cato's presence on the other side of the glass. Something horrible must have happened as they sliced open Peeta's chest with a sizzling laser. Cato cringed at the sight of it, but Peeta didn't even bleed. His pale face remained emotionless. He had to look away, unable to stomach seeing Peeta's heart literally bared on the table. It wasn’t beating.

Muffled words floated through the glass as if in a dream like _cardiogenic shock, toxicity,_ and _asystole._ Then a doctor took two short metal rods and jammed them in to Peeta. They shocked with an electrical charge that caused his body to convulse up and down on the table disturbingly while his eyes and fingers twitched. It looked as if they were torturing him and Cato renewed his beating against the glass violently as the rabid animal in him screamed for attention hoarsely.

"Peeta, PEETA! PEETA!" Over and over until he bashed his head against the thick glass and darkness overcame him.

Struggling briefly to open his bleary eyes Cato watched as the fluorescent lights flashed past him on the ceiling overhead. Each glowing light that flared overhead sent a shock to the senses like a dousing of ice water reinvigorating his body. He was being carried away by the Peacekeepers in to another medical lab and away from Peeta. Slowly it registered, away from Peeta _._ _NO!_ He came to and started to thrash about, only to realize he was bound to some gurney that the guards were pushing. He strained every muscle in his body against his bindings as he seething out in rage, "Let me go, let me go! You fuckers did this! If he dies I will kill you! Each and every one of you! LET. ME. GO! Peeta!"

A male nurse with soft blonde locks much like Peeta’s appeared beside him and jabbed him with something sharp. Then his whole body relaxed instantly and his mind went numb. His vision began to blur around the edges and his nerves began to tingle. It was an extremely disconcerting feeling as he lost the ability to communicate, his rage dissipated, and he fell back into the black abyss, unconscious. _What are they doing to me?_ He worried for his own life briefly, but found he couldn't find the ability to care what they did with him, only what was happening to Peeta.

* * *

 

Even in his drug-induced sleep he was plagued with nightmares of waking to find they had let Peeta die, needing only one victor. Or they had worked their Capitol magic on him, but changed him, made him subservient and stole his spark, realizing the rebelliousness of his nature and his charisma could be very destructive to the Capitols totalitarianism. He wasn't sure which version the nightmare was worse a dead Peeta or a living one that was a shell of his former self and a puppet of the Capitol. Either way he would loose him. He dreamed a different scenario at the Cornucopia where when Peeta offered the poisonous nightlock he ate it all, forcing Peeta to be the final victor and saving him from death. Peeta may have hated him for it, but the world would be a much too ugly place with out Peeta's life to light it up.

Cato woke with a shiver, his body nude atop a thin mattress with a scratchy wool blanket. He felt the stitched hairs tickling his stomach and groin as he tried to adjust them for comfort. His first thoughts were of Peeta, but as his mind opened up to the rest of the room he became aware that there was someone else with him. His eyes opened and he was surprised to find his mentor Lyme towering over him. She was a large woman, almost as tall as Cato and practically as wide. She had short-cropped brown hair and a stern face, like that of a general of war. Yet she had a kind heart and was surprisingly different from other District 2 Victors. He was glad that she had volunteered to be the mentor for District 2 tributes this year. While he had been unable to confide in anyone other than Peeta during training he felt a connection to her that made him confess everything the night before the games. She took it all in stride and even hugged him. It was a rough and masculine type of hug, what one would expect from her, but it comforted him nonetheless. And even more shockingly she told him to do what his heart told him to, 'I'm not going to sugar coat this Ryves. Even with District 2's advantages you could very well die in there. Don't die with any regrets.' It was exactly what he needed to hear. It was the final push that led him to the decision to abandon the Careers once he found Peeta and to make him the victor.

_Look how fucking great that worked out,_ he thought.

Cato whipped himself upright, but Lyme put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"Easy, son. You're body’s been through a lot."

"Fuck my body. Peeta, where's Peeta?" He asked frantically. He hated the fact that he was still forcefully separated from him as his eyes scanned the room to find the only other bed in was empty. He felt his head getting hot from the sympathetic look on Lyme's face. She didn't do doting mother.

"They did everything they could," She started. Cato wanted to vomit. He knew that phrase, that conciliatory grouping of words that were always followed with bad news. He wasn't ready for it and he wished he could ignore it. Plug his ears and hum ignorantly.

"His body experienced some severe traumas, physically and emotionally that were extremely taxing to his body. I'm no good with technicalities, son, but they said he had some kind of heart attack due to the excessive amount of damage to it, probably from the hammer and arrow. They think that may have saved him though."

"What the hell are you saying, Lyme? Is he d— gone?" Cato lashed out.

She shook her head with an unnatural empathy as his nails dug into the palms of his hands. The pain kept him grounded in the moment. He needed to hear what she was saying. It was about his Peeta, nothing could be more important.

"I don't appreciate the language, boy. But in your state I will let it slide this once. Peeta's alive. Due to the rupture in his heart, which must have happened first, the poison was never fully absorbed into his system. But he's in a coma. You've been under for 3 days now in a forced stasis. They've tried multiple things to wake him, but the doctors think it was too much. He's lucky to even be alive, let alone in a coma. I am sorry, Cato." Lyme pursed her lips after she finished, staving off the expression of some emotion.

Cato's vision swam as they welled up with fiery tears. He had been dropped in the middle of the deepest ocean and he couldn't figure out what way was up or down. He was going to drown. With out Peeta he couldn't find his way to the surface again. He wasn't meant to win and especially not with out Peeta. How could this have happened? He felt irrationally angry towards Lyme even thought it wasn't her fault. She was just the messenger, another pawn and victim of the Capitol like him. Then he thought of his father and how he had hammered into him his whole life a need to win these games. 'You've got to fulfill your familial duty, Cato. Our name is earned. We are the best. You will be nothing without the title of victor in this family.' _Fuck you dad._ Cato hated having ever been born into the Ryves family. If he had never volunteered for this stupid fucking game he would have never known what he was now loosing. In the end it seemed Stasson had got what he wanted. Even in death the bastard managed to mock Cato and take from him everything he loved most.

"No. I don't believe you." Cato spit out at Lyme. He was unprepared for this. He didn't know he would come to the Capitol and meet the most amazing man he'd ever known. A kind and caring soul with piercing blue eyes that could see right through him. That could hone in on his weaknesses and make him want to be a better person. That made him want to accept the part he had worked to bury deep in him, a man that didn't want to be a brutal killer for sport. That yearned for a life better than that.

Lyme closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit of hers that she used to try and stifle her own emotions, usually difficult ones. She was really only good at exposing a gruff and military exterior. Motherly and feminine tendencies evaded her grasp like oil and vinegar.

"I'm sorry, son. I truly am. Haymitch and I worked together. We did everything we could to help your two's case. When they revoked the rule Haymitch lost it…" Cato could tell she meant it as she trailed off. She had believed in their cause and when she believed in something she fought for it like a fanatic. "I'll give you some peace. When you are ready you can visit Peeta, he's in room 12B. The victor's crowning ceremony and interview is in two nights, so expect your prep team in the early morning the day of."

Once she was out the door he let the hideous, angry, gutted cry rip from his tightly held lips. All his demons screeched in pain with him. _Why did I listen to Peeta's ridiculous ploy? Why didn't I just swallow the berries like Peeta? What will become of me with out my love by my side?_ He had foolishly given in to thoughts near the end of a happily ever after, a future where they both escaped the grasp of the Capitol and were able to live in peace, together, enjoying one another's love. They'd have a little garden and Peeta would paint beautiful still life's to decorate their home. He would finally help Peeta move on from the pain of his family life and give him the family he deserved. And one day, possibly, they would have children and never have to worry about them being reaped because the world would be different all because of Peeta.

Except now all of that seemed extremely childish. He had let his emotions run him over and allowed some silly girls fantasy to invade his brain like a parasite, leaving behind false hopes that now threatened to suffocate the life from him. He sank deeper into the dark ocean rift knowing for sure now he could never breach the surface, see the light of the sun and feel its warmth against his skin with out Peeta. He pounded his fist against the bed as a hot tear escaped from his tightly clenched eyes.

Abruptly, Cato stood from the bed. He couldn't take another second lying down. He had been incapacitated and left in that cave for too long, he couldn't handle another moment in this one. He had to see Peeta. He had to see it with his own eyes. The confirmation that he really wasn't awake and waiting for him giddily in the other room with a stupid smile plastered on his face and his arms held out wide for a tight embrace.

Cato found it took a few minutes to regain his bearings having not been on his feet for seventy-eight hours and also for him to slip on the starchy robe hanging from a rod by his bed. He didn't care about modesty, but he didn't want to be stopped from getting to Peeta because his junk was on display. The robe hung from him limply. The lifelessness of it accurately reflected his mood. Cato shook the disarming numbness from his legs and forced them to carry him to the door, which he proceeded to fall against and smear blood across its smooth white surface. He stared at the crimson color trying to discern its appearance. The image before him contrasted deeply with the ruby red blood painted against the clinical white door, like some crime scene. Which seemed like an apt description. Then he checked his hand and saw four crescent shaped gouges on his palm and remembered clenching his fist earlier as Lyme spoke.

He took a few moments to let his legs readjust to bearing all his weight and then Cato ripped the door open. He wasn't waiting a moment longer to see him. Cato was in room 7B per the plaque next to the door, which meant that he was close to Peeta. If he could just get to him, see him, touch him, maybe it would all be better. Maybe it wouldn't be true. _Why does everything have to be so fucked? Why couldn't everyone have just left them alone?_ He thought as he staggered down the sterile hall. There was no one to be seen and the silence was uncanny. His body tensed, prepped for a fight. He was still in the mindset of the Hunger Games and he wasn't sure he was ready to dismantle his defenses just yet. He might not know how. Being back in the Capitol seemed to be fraught with as much danger as the arena, except the enemy was not immediately recognizable.

Finally the room was before him with 12B etched into the bronze plaque next to the door. Cato stood before it and his breathing hitched. Could he face the truth? Was Peeta really gone from him forever, just a shell of the person he used to be? He pushed the door open and was surprised to find another person in the room. A haggard Haymitch sat passed out in the chair next to Peeta's bed. He had dark circles under his eyes and he reeked of alcohol. It almost made Cato’s eyes burn. Haymitch startled awake at the closing of the door and his foggy eyes connected with Cato's wide, distraught eyes that only saw Peeta. He was laid out before Cato on the bed, wires and tubes attached to him giving him nutrients and liquids to keep his body going, to monitor his heartbeat, brain activity and breathing. His blue eyes were hidden behind closed eyelids. Was he human or machine? What was left that was Peeta's?

"Cato.” Haymitch inclined his head. It was a perfunctory initial greet. “It's good to see you up. I'll leave you…" Haymitch trailed off as if speaking actually pained him and then walked out rubbing his temples.

Cato did not even acknowledge Haymitch's words. He was lost. Peeta was right before him. He could reach out and touch him. It would be so simple. He felt himself lifted towards lighter waters in the deep cold ocean of his mind just from Peeta's presence. He looked as if he could have been sleeping peacefully, just waiting for Cato's playful nudge to wake him. Except that wasn't the case. It was so much more fucked.

Cato hesitantly reached out and touched Peeta's hand. It was cool and he could barely detect the life with in it. He slipped his hand in Peeta's one more time and he knew it was the right thing as they fit together perfectly. Like each hand had been sculpted with the sole purpose of fitting into the other. His eyes stung and there was a throbbing pressure in his temples. It was an unusual occurrence for him. He never cried until he met Peeta, until he realized everything he could have, everything he could lose.

"I'm so— so sorry, Peeta. This isn't fair. It's not how any of this was supposed to go down…" Cato choked out in a raspy voice. It physically pained him to speak to Peeta and realize there would be no response. The rest of the words he wished to speak died off on his tongue.

Peeta's heart rate remained the same. There was no change in his brain activity when Cato spoke. Peeta's body stayed motionless before him and Cato felt a sob lumped in the back of his throat suffocating him as he tried to hold it down by chewing on his tongue. All he wanted was to see those beautiful blue orbs gazing back at him with love and excitement knowing they had won and could be together, safe and sound.

His mind tried to remember how Peeta sounded, but he knew he would never be able to hold the perfect rendition of it. Nothing he held in his mind would do justice to the real thing. It terrified him to think that the memories of Peeta would fade and tarnish with time. Slowly he would loose small details and aspects of Peeta's character and looks, leaving behind a simple version of Peeta like an initial sketch by an artist before he began to add all the proper embellishments and details that make a person unique. Slowly the image in Cato’s mind would be one that hinted at what he used to know but lost all the complexities that made Peeta the man he loved. How could Cato keep Peeta real in his mind with out him there? He never even got a chance to learn everything he could about Peeta. It was a cruel joke.

Cato climbed into the bed with the motionless and stiff Peeta. He struggled to move him over, as Peeta's body was just dead weight. He curled around Peeta and whispered, "I promised you I would never let you go. I still wont." He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Peeta's forehead; a tender kiss to each eyelid that shielded from view what Cato needed most. He took his time before reaching his final destination, trying to hold back the fanciful hopes that taunted his mind, stories of a kiss—true love’s kiss—waking someone from a dead slumber. It was a stupid thing to think, but he couldn’t help them from forming. He approached Peeta’s chapped lips slow and thoughtful before planting a chaste kiss that held all the meaning he could never accurately express. It became wet from the silent tears that streamed down Cato's face as he indulged in this final embrace. Hope was long gone.


	25. Chapter 25

Two Days Later…

Cato's prep team was hard at work on his body trying to rid it of all the imperfections he had collected while in the games. It infuriated Cato to no end to think that the Capitol would put him through all this and then erase any memory of it from his body having deemed them ugly. Just like that they could clean the slate and know one would see what he had been through physically. The marks that marred his body were reminders of what he endured, what he had lost. Each scar a memento of one of the best and worst time of his life. Yet the Capitol just continued to flex their infinite power as they worked to 'perfect' his body. He had control over nothing. _Why had Peeta thought he could challenge these people? They even hold power over our fucking bodies._

Praxus diligently worked scrubbing against Cato's spear wound, the one that had almost done him in, as it had healed closed but the skin color was still the same raw pink from the arena having never returned to the tanned color the rest of his skin held. It must have been a side effect of the medicine the Gamemakers gave him in the arena. Praxus used pungent brown liquids and caked it in slivery pastes with his pointed purple fingernails multiple times before scrapping it off painfully until the skin was the perfect tone like the rest of his body.

The prep team was always ridiculous looking and Praxus was no exception covered head to toe in purple. Long straw straight purple locks to his mid-back, surgically altered violet eyes, an atrocious lavender leotard with pink feathered cuffs and an amethyst implanted into the exposed skin below his neck. Praxus' look was the most offensive to Cato. The other two prep team workers Amesty and Lorefia both sported weird styles in varying colors, but managed to have more discretion in it's uses, while they worked on his hair and nails.

When they had first arrived they would not stop gushing over how romantic his televised relationship with Peeta had been. It was by far the best Hunger Games _ever_ in their minds. They had never gotten such a fully developed love affair before and apparently their huge enthusiasm for it was partially responsible for the change in rules. After Peeta declared his love for Cato in the caves apparently some fans started a letter writing campaign to the Gamemakers for them to save both tributes. Amesty was particularly proud of having participated in something _so_ important. Except they seemed not to know of Peeta's state as they continued to badger him with questions about Peeta. The Gamemakers appeared to have ended the feed with out a concrete resolution to their suicide attempt. He wondered if they did that because it gave them the opportunity to spin how the games ended anyway they wanted in the crowning ceremony tonight. Obviously they would need to do a lot of master Capitol spin work since Peeta was still in his persistent state of coma.

"So Romeo and Juliet! True star crossed lovers!" Amesty had raved.

"I think it would be more accurate to say Romeo and Romeo. Luckily we got a better ending!" Praxus responded.

"Everyone is just dying for tonight's crowning and exit interview! We all just want to see you and Peeta together again!"

After Lorefia's last statement and the accumulation of all their sycophantic praises Cato had snapped, the taught rubber band that were his emotions broke from their insensitivity to his situation and rebounded back on them like an injured animal lashing out to protect itself.

"My god, can you three just shut the fuck up? Seriously! I really don't need to hear every petty thought that runs through those bleach damaged brains of yours!"

After his outburst they had quickly fallen silent. _No ones ever probably spoken to those shits like that before,_ Cato thought with satisfaction. It felt good to put others in their place. Something he hadn't done in a long time, but that he had been born to do. Being raised in the Victor's Village of District 2 had many perks like their own Avoxes that he learned as soon as he was able to speak he could boss around. Except as the morning wore on with his silent and newly submissive prep team guilt started to build inside him. What he had done was wrong. They knew nothing of his actual situation. They were clueless because the Capitol kept them that way. Peeta would have expected better of him. But that was the fucking problem Peeta wasn't there to keep Cato from falling back into the aggressive and indifferent façade he had created to make his way through the academy. It would be like slipping on a well-worn leather jacket. It fit him perfectly and he wore it well. It could protect him from what he had gone through. What his mind was still experiencing. It might be the only way he could go on living.

He was sure the Gamemakers had something planned for tonight to explain Peeta's absence and it was sure to be some sappy thing that the Capitol would eat up, but would leave a foul taste in Cato's mouth. Everything would have a foul taste from now on with out his shinning light beside him. It was everything he had feared during the games: Peeta not making it through. And now here he was alone and unprepared to handle a life after the Hunger Games with out Peeta. It was too hard and confusing for his simple mind. The emotions and memories overwhelmed. He was only ever taught how to fight and survive the games, not how to carry on after losing someone he loved. What terrified him more was that today was his last day in the hospital. He would leave it later this evening for the ceremony and interview, never to return, never to see Peeta again. A panic built in his chest like rash threatening to swell, clog his arteries and block his windpipe.

_Fuck… Peeta, how am I supposed to do this with out you?_

* * *

He sat on his bed as his vision blurred from his tears and he squinted trying to see through them like he would a foggy morning, but everything refused to come into focus. He had to get moving though he wasn't sure why. Then unexpectedly his memory decided to torture him some more and he was thrown back into a harsh wooded dreamscape. Terrible muttations were chasing them. Someone brought a hammer down on a man's chest and finished him off. A chipper voice tormented them with a new announcement changing the rules. A boy passed out the nightlock. Then it was all painfully real. He was back in the white room. The sterile walls reflected the light endlessly, enhancing and distorting reality. Propped up on the stiff bed he watched black dots begin to dance and pirouette across his eyes as they slowly adjusted. Why had this happened? Who was he? Why was it taking so long to find answers to these things? He couldn't sense anything; his mind was a numb void that swallowed up every emotion or thought that tried to escape. He felt ill again, the nasty churning in his empty stomach returning.

His internal debate of just leaning over and vomiting on the floor was interrupted when the door opened. He still hadn't figured out what was going on or even why he was there yet, but then he saw a face. Those eyes, they were familiar. Everything about the man was familiar. They called out to him like home. Big, loving, hazel orbs that widened in disbelief. He could never forget that face and the intense feelings that it brought.

" _Peeta_?"

"C-Cato?" He choked out with a lopsided smile. _That felt right, there must be more._

He was glad he had restrained himself from vomiting when Cato closed the distance between them in seconds to smash his body against Peeta and kiss his lips with the desperation of a man starved of affection his whole life. Peeta had little knowledge of what had happened to bring him here to this moment, but he knew something wonderful was happening now. The way Cato was mewling against his lips and cupping his face as if it were something rare and fragile he had searched for his whole life and was now holding for the first time. Cato murmured through the kisses racing strands of thoughts like 'I love you,' 'it's a miracle' and 'never leave me again.'

Their lips moved as one, embracing what they knew to be right and true. Electricity pulsated through their connected lips and restored Peeta's mind. He was the boy on fire, returned. Cato was the man he loved. He had braved the hardest storms to be with him and it seemed he had finally succeeded. Peeta bit lightly at Cato's supple bottom lip and then gasped out, his voice fully restored, "Cato, where are we? What happened?"

Cato pulled back reluctantly from Peeta's wet and reddened lips, but continued to stare at them with need. Then he flicked his eyes back up to Peeta's, "Sorry. It's just too good to be true. Yet here you are!" He touched Peeta's face, groped his waist, and pinched the exposed skin at the dip in his torso.

"Ow! Hey I'm healing here. And didn't you tell me once you're supposed to pinch yourself to figure out if it's a dream?" Peeta asked with a playful smile.

Cato laughed joyously, relieved that Peeta seemed to be his same old self.

"You came back to me! I thought you were gone. You've been in a coma for five days now.” Cato began to explain, his hands racing to trace every inch of Peeta’s body. “Something about the shock to your heart from the battles in the game caused it to fail, but luckily it stopped the poison from entering your system. No one thought you would wake up!" Cato practically sobbed the last sentence out.

Peeta digested what Cato said but something didn't make sense.

"Why didn't they just let me die?"

Cato replied animatedly, "Because they changed the rules at the last second. Again! Everyone loved our romance, they couldn't stand to see us separated and the Capitol probably couldn't stand to see them bested by us. Claudius announced the change right before we took the nightlock. Well before I took it…"

Peeta felt a hot blush creep up his neck and redden his cheeks fiercely.

"I'm an idiot. A fucking idiot! I took the poison even after they said we could both live!"

Cato shook his head, "No, never, babe. It was the heart attack. It was distorting all your senses before you took them and besides you're here now. We're both alive, Peeta. Do you know what that means?"

Peeta's eyes widened and he stated to rip the wires and tubes from his veins. Cato tried to stop him, but Peeta threw his hands from him, a man on a mission.

"M-my god! We're victors, both of us! I—I need these things off me!"

Cato approached hesitantly again this time and then when Peeta saw he wasn't going to stop him he allowed Cato to delicately remove the tangled wires and tubes from his body. He slowly lifted the tubes from his nostrils that had been providing clean oxygen. Once they were over his head their eyes met in a heated gaze. Their bodies called to each other like a lighthouse calls out to lost ships, guiding them safely to shore. Cato's eyes guided Peeta's lost one's back into his safe harbor as they embraced again. Peeta’s lips, swollen with lust, collided with Cato's as they celebrated what the violent sea had almost torn from them. Cato was his lighthouse, beckoning him back to life, returning to him all the senses that had been numbed from him during his coma, stoking his flames.

As their tongues danced against each other Peeta felt his arousal becoming obvious and at that moment realized he was naked beneath his cover. Only the thin wool material of the blanket separated him from being exposed to Cato. He wanted to be exposed. He wanted Cato. He was alive. After everything that had happened they almost did not make it to this point, but now both of them were living and together and nothing was going to stop Peeta from enjoying it.

He shoved his tongue deep into Cato’s mouth with a burning passion before he growled “I want you now.”

“Now? Are you sure it’s okay, maybe we should have a doctor check you out first…” Cato asked.     

Peeta put a finger to Cato’s lip as he shook his head, hushing him. Peeta kept a seductive stare planted on Cato as he fingered the hem of Cato’s dress shirt. Then he slowly trailed a finger up to the top button and began undoing each one from the top down. With each button that popped free a little more skin of Cato’s perfectly sculpted chest was revealed at an excruciatingly teasing pace. Peeta planted a tender kiss to each newly exposed piece of flesh as if each were a treasure to be cherished. Cato moaned, aroused and pleased by Peeta’s playful mood.

“I don’t know if it’s because I was in a coma or how many times we almost died, but I do know I’m horny as fuck and I will have you now because we freaking won.” Peeta stated matter of fact as he tossed Cato’s shirt away. 

“Well I can accept that.” Cato said with a lively smirk.

Peeta pulled Cato atop him on the hospital bed and then readjusted so Cato was lying down and Peeta was hovering atop him sucking on his bottom lip. Cato raked his hands down Peeta’s smooth back as he groaned and bucked against Peeta’s nude form. Peeta moved across Cato’s strong jaw to suck on his earlobe and place teasing bites up and down its length. He loved eliciting such pleasurable reactions from Cato. He loved how his naked body could feel the hairs on Cato’s arms stand to attention or how his hips rutted spastically against his own aching erection. Peeta felt charged and ready to burn some energy. Cato was his outlet.

Cato’s hand nestled into Peeta’s hair and stroked the bangs from his forehead as he worked on nipping and sucking Cato’s left nipple raw. He wanted to mark all of Cato’s body. He had never been the possessive type before nor thought of himself as the aggressor, that seemed like Cato’s forte. But as he bit and sucked until there were satisfying little bruises left along Cato’s softly tanned and muscled abdomen he felt a burning need to mark what was his. They had made it through hell and back to get here and he wanted to make sure Cato knew he was his. They were each other’s. 

Then Peeta ripped off Cato’s belt and tore into his black slacks to find the prize he was looking for Cato’s large manhood, pulsating underneath the thin white material of his boxer briefs like a caged beast. Peeta planted a kiss against the leaking mushroom head that stained his underwear and then mouthed down the rest of its large length teasingly. Cato moaned and tightened his grip on Peeta’s blonde locks, but he did not push Peeta’s head. He was restraining his more animalistic urges to just buck up against Peeta’s mouth. But Peeta didn’t want sweet and tender love making today. No he had just woken from five days in a coma and won the Hunger Games, so god help him he was going to fuck today.

The white boxer briefs were banished to the white tiled floor along with Cato’s other outcast items. Peeta held Cato’s cock in his hand and enjoyed the sight of it at such a close angle. The large red mushroom head that oozed a small drop of pre-cum and the thick meaty girth of his shaft that Peeta held heftily in his right hand. He stroked up and more pre-cum dribbled out, hypnotizing Peeta. He licked his lips in need and dove forward to taste Cato’s offering. Cato husked out loudly as his body shot up, “Ugh, my god Peeta!”

Peeta had never tasted another mans essence nor had he held a cock in his mouth. It was an intoxicating few firsts for Peeta as he worked his jaw to accept the whole girth of it in his mouth and took in the flavors. His pre-cum was tangier than expected while his cock held a musky flavor that was pure Cato. He growled in satisfaction deep in his throat as he worked to swallow more of Cato’s manhood into his mouth. He spit a little down the shaft so he could slicken it with his fist, which he then worked in motion with his bobbing head as it began to slide up and down Cato’s cock. He continued to feel Cato’s hand flex and slacken in his hair and so he worked up a more feverous tempo sucking vigorously with sloppy sounds as he stroked his own aching penis. Cato groaned loudly and often in appreciation at Peeta’s efforts as he finally lost himself and threw both hands atop Peeta’s head to push down on him powerfully. Peeta enjoyed the forcefulness Cato brought on. The strength in his arms and his rock hard dick increased Peeta’s own arousal ten-fold as his eyes watered from gagging on Cato’s cock when it was forced too deep. Cato hesitated after that but Peeta looked up with Cato still in his mouth and shook his head. Eventually his throat adjusted to the thrusting penis and he found a rhythm that caused Cato’s knees to tremble.

Peeta stopped unexpectedly and Cato growled dissatisfied at Peeta’s absence from his throbbing penis. Peeta crawled back atop Cato and crushed their lips together in a lustful frenzy, his red and swollen from sucking Cato. As Cato’s tongue worked out his thankfulness across Peeta’s lips Peeta reached with his right hand to grab hold of Cato’s neglected cock. He held the stiff and slickened member in place with his hand as he positioned himself. Then he sat down on Cato’s dick and took all of his manhood at once until his tight ass was filled to hilt. Cato threw his head back with a cry at the unexpected heat that enveloped him so tightly within Peeta’s perfect ass. Peeta planted both hands atop Cato’s muscled pecs as if to hold on for dear life. The abrupt intrusion caused his muscles to clamp down and he strived to relax his body. Peeta then began to work his ass hesitantly against Cato’s large and wonderful cock as he started to loosen around the monstrous invasion. He connected with Cato’s hazel eyes that had fogged over with his arousal. Peeta felt his own eyes blazing back and the passion and love between them stoked his fire to higher and higher levels. He started to bounce up and down on Cato’s cock with loud slapping sounds of their skin connecting and he cried out in surprise and ecstasy when Cato reached his prostate. 

After that Cato lunged upright to connect their lips in a clash of noses, teeth and lips and Peeta continued to grind his ass down on Cato’s large member. Cato then took hold of Peeta on either side of his taut stomach, his thumbs finding their way to rest in the grooves of his hips, and began to bounce him up and down on his cock with increasing speed and power. Each powerful thrust up by Cato was met with a forceful slam down by Peeta’s ass, which never failed to connect with his sweet spot and elicit a strangled cry from his lips. Their sweat-drenched bodies were lost in another world filled with love and lust and passion and victory. They were the victors. They were the first pair of winners in Hunger Game history making their celebratory fucking all the more significant.

“I love you Cato,” Peeta gasped out as Cato slammed him down particularly hard, his fingers were sure to leave bruising marks on Peeta’s hips and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

“Uh, fuck, Peeta, I love you too. So much. Ev-everything’s better when you’re here.” Cato stuttered out with his upward thrusts. He was getting close, Peeta could tell and by the building sensation deep in the pit of his stomach he knew he was close too. He worked his ass back down on Cato’s large cock with renewed vigor as he threw his head back in a lustful cry and Cato clamped down on his exposed neck. Cato’s hands moved back to grip and spread his cheeks in a crushing grip as he guided them up and down over his thrusting cock. Peeta was so close to blowing it all over that it was becoming unbearable. He felt his nails dig into the back of Cato’s wide shoulders as Cato bit and marked his neck and clavicle bone, his own powerful thrusts becoming spastic and frenzied with need for release. 

Just as they were about to loose all their senses, give their bodies over to the need and explode…

 "What the-! I- Holy hell. It’s… uh I'll just go—uh wait outside…" Haymitch stuttered like a mad man as his cheeks burned brightly with embarrassment and he averted his eyes as the boys broke apart embarrassed and startled by the sudden intrusion.

Haymitch closed the door abruptly and then opened it just as quickly. "You're awake, Peeta! That's—that’s truly great! I'm going to get you're prep team. Two hours until the crowning and interview tonight. I’ll give you two room, but you'll only have five minutes before a doctor comes to check you out."

Then he was gone and Peeta and Cato were staring at each other a little mortified that Haymitch had caught them in such a heated embrace, especially with Peeta feeling so exposed and Cato’s hand on his privates. Then Cato started to chuckle and Peeta first looked at him like he was crazy, but as Cato's laugh continued he soon joined him until they were both gasping for breath as they laughed over the absurdity of their situation. Peeta collapsed against his man and cherished the feel of Cato's chest vibrating with his laughter. He took the few minutes Haymitch had given them to soak up the moment with Cato. He almost didn't make it here because of his own weakness. But now that he was alive and miraculously conscious he knew he could be stronger with Cato.

When the prep team was rushed into Peeta's room while a doctor was still checking him over it became a whirlwind of movements. He was forced to try and do simple exercises for the doctor to monitor how all his faculties were holding up while the prep team tried to scrub, trim, and scrape at his body. Cato was forced to separate from him and redress. His stylist had been waiting for him earlier, but apparently Cato ditched him to come visit Peeta one last time before the ceremony started to say his goodbyes thinking he would never see Peeta again. Peeta was extremely grateful he did as he had been slowly regaining consciousness and the ability to move the past few hours, but had been terrified by his own amnesia and inability to talk. He feared he may have continued to sit there in confusion with no idea where or who he was even if doctors had checked on him first. Somehow the mere presence of Cato cleared the air in his head like a strong gale dispersing the clouds. The doctor said it was a miracle. Most patients after a few days in coma struggled for weeks to regain full motor functions and their memory.

Cato had brought him back to the world and nothing could be better.

Portia showed up slightly frazzled with a dress tuxedo draped over her shoulder and her hair askew from running.

"Oh Peeta! My brave, brave boy on fire! I just knew you'd wake up!"

Peeta ran and hugger her tight, not realizing how much he had missed her calm and caring demeanor. She returned the warmhearted embrace and he nuzzled against her soft caramel skin, needing the touch of a mother figure in his life desperately.

"Lets get you dressed now. You've got to look your best for the audience. Everyone is dying to see you and Cato."

Peeta beamed at her, "I can't wait to show them we made it. We beat the odds and turned them in our favor."

"Only you could do it. But how bout you don’t scare me like that again. I am a woman of a certain age and can only take so much." She chastised with a smile in her eyes.

After Portia helped Peeta dress into his outfit for the evening the prep team continued to apply last minute touch ups to his face. One of them started crying she was so happy that Peeta was awake. Apparently most of the Capitol was in the dark to Peeta's condition and his prep team had only found out about his condition today when they weren't called in to do his prep work for the ceremony.

"May I have a moment alone with Peeta before he has to leave for the ceremony?" Haymitch asked startling Peeta who wondered how long he had been standing in the doorway watching them.

The three members of his prep team left the room with best wishes for Peeta and Portia said, "I'll be at the auditorium to do final touch ups before the interview, sweetie. See you there."

Peeta stood awkwardly on his feet in front of Haymitch averting his eyes. He felt his cheeks burning as he remembered their last encounter. He was so embarrassed as he thought how that was Haymitch's first interaction with Peeta since the games started. _Great._ He wanted to smack himself in the head. Although he didn't regret doing it one bit. Cato was always worth it, no matter the awkward pain inducing cost.

"Um so… I'm sorry about—"

Haymitch waved it off deferentially as he interrupted, "Do not worry about it Peeta. We've all been young and in love, slaves to our own—um—passions shall the word I choose."

Peeta laughed thinking Haymitch probably meant his penis. His second brain, which often had a little more control over Peeta's actions than he'd like to admit. Especially when it came to Cato.

"Uh so you wanted to talk?" He said, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of his _passions._

"Yes. After President Snow crowns the two of you Caesar will do the final interview and I want to make sure you play up the love angle."

Peeta cocked his head.

"Okay…"

"I know there were many other things at play in your mind during those games. That,” Again he chose his words carefully, “display with K-Katniss…"

Haymitch paused and he seemed truly saddened by the memory of her. It made Peeta very uncomfortable to see the reminder of her death before him in Haymitch's own surprising grief. Peeta and Katniss may have at first written Haymitch off as a drunken fool in the beginning of training, but they all had come to a mutual understanding and respect of the other by the end. They were a team and now it was missing an integral part.

"Well it was very bold and had the ability to be misconstrued by some as a touch defiant, especially with how it looked when you tried to deny them a victor. So you just need to protect yours and Cato's back, particularly tonight in the interview."

"Wait are you saying we could be in danger?" Peeta worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

Haymitch gripped Peeta's shoulder and whispered, "No, son. I'm saying you've made powerful enemies with your displays. Some in the districts think you are trying to… never mind that. The Capitol just doesn't like it. So talk about how much you love each other and that all you wanted was to make it out together. Everything you did was clouded by your passions with Cato. Understood?"

Peeta thought he understood and so he nodded his head anxiously.

"O-okay, Haymitch. Thanks for the heads up."

They looked at each other uncomfortably. Peeta was unsure what to do now with that information. He and Cato might be in danger because of his uncontrolled defiant streak. Inside the arena it was easy to get carried away by it, he was fighting for his life, Cato's life; he had wanted to find a way to strike back at them when there was no hope. But now they were outside the arena and the world had become just as dangerous for them because of his actions. Haymitch could probably sense the anxiety coming off Peeta in waves and he unexpectedly moved forward to hug Peeta. It was an awkward and hasty side-armed hug, but Peeta treasured it. Haymitch then guided Peeta out into the hallway where he found Cato waiting for him at the end by two large black cars with gold-rimmed wheels, which take them on the journey to the City Circle.

Peeta noticed Cato drinking in his face like his very presence restored the proper balance to the world. He wasn't sure he could make contact with those loving hazel eyes though as they parted to the separate vehicles. How could he look him in the face knowing Cato thought everything was perfect now and realistically Peeta had probably doomed them? President Snow would want to make an example of them for their rebelliousness.

Effie was inside the car waiting for him. Effie squealed in delight as she clasped Peeta's hand in both of hers, "It is so, so, so good to see you Peeta! No one will be able to tell you were in that nasty little spell!"

Peeta rolled his eyes, some things never changed.

"It's good to see you too, Effie."

"Yes well pleasantries aside, I'm here to tell you two that you haven't seen each other yet. When you get crowned and then at the interview it will be you 'first' time back together. So play that up for the cameras sweeties." Effie said.

Peeta groaned at the thought of having to put on a performance for the audience. But now both her and Haymitch had advised him to keep all eyes on their romance. He worried on his bottom lip some more as the car arrived and they were guided by peacekeepers into the lavish upper chambers of the building that looked out over the City Circle. Capitol citizens had lined the streets trying to catch a glimpse of him and screamed like mad animals when they exited the car.

Once inside the building waiting to be called to the balcony with President Snow, Peeta leaned against the wall in trepidation. Cato noticed his behavior and was on the verge of asking something when the crowd outside erupted into thunderous applause. Cato and Peeta were then separated and ushered out onto the large tiered balcony over the Capitol Circle from separate sides. Thousands of citizens screamed and clapped for their victors as Peeta and Cato theatrically looked at each other from opposing sides of the balcony, as if it were their first time seeing each other. Then they both walked up the velvet red carpeted stairs on either side towards the top balcony that held President Snow. He held both arms outward for the victors and had a large smile on his face for the cameras. But when Snow’s chilly blue eyes caught Peeta's they darkened faintly. No emotions flickered across his face other than the proper ones to be displayed to the public, but the eyes said it all. Peeta had crossed him.

Once at the top with Cato standing next to him President Snow's voice rang out for all the audience to hear.

"Welcome, Cato Ryves of District 2 and Peeta Mellark of District 12. You two are quite the special pair and I, as President of Panem, have the distinct pleasure of crowning you in a historic first as joint victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games."

Peeta and Cato gripped each other's hands to brace themselves as the crowd went over the edge. Screaming, crying, cheering and stomping, they displayed their love for the couple. President Snow walked forward with a small golden crown in his hand. He stretched to place it atop Cato's head. Cato was genuinely grinning. He seemed to be enjoying the attention and ready to accept that everything was going to be fine, they were joint victors now and what could possibly go wrong? Peeta felt his cheeks struggle against him as he worked to keep the smile planted in the face of the stark reality their situation presented.

Next President Snow was standing before Peeta with an identical golden crown. His icy blue stare connected with Peeta's and he held the contact refusing to lower his gaze, that rebellious spirit rearing its ugly head at the worst time. Snow's blood red lips twitched at the corners as he ceremoniously placed the crown atop Peeta's head and whispered, "You are very interesting Mr. Mellark, very interesting indeed. I shall be watching."

With the crowning ceremony done Cato and Peeta were shepherded back down to the main lobby of the building where they were then taken to the annex that contained the auditorium. This was where they had been the night before the Games started. Where Peeta had confessed he was interested in a boy, a fellow tribute. This was where Peeta had begun to truly show his colors and bloom into the man he had become in the games. And here he was again, alive and surprisingly with the man he had fallen in love with. Yet now he must stifle the part of him that he had just discovered. No one could know his motivations for what he did in the games were anything other than a desperate man in love. He had to scourge the rebelliousness from him and prove to Snow there was nothing worthy of watching.

Portia and Cato's stylist were waiting for them at the wings of the stage. The interviews were set to start in minutes. Their stylists fluttered about making last minute adjustments and touch ups to their makeup. Portia could read Peeta so well and her soothing chocolate eyes held onto him.

"You will be fine. You're last interview was perfect. Just remember you love him and would do anything for him."

Peeta wondered if she knew the trouble he had caused by his defiance in the Games. Either way her words comforted him. They bolstered his confidence because she was right. _I'm Peeta Mellark. I'm charismatic and charming and I killed the last interview. I got the people of Panem to root for my romance and change the rules of the games. I can make it through this and I will prove to Snow there is nothing more to look out for. We're just a boring couple in love._

Peeta took his place next to Cato at the wings of the stage and studied his chiseled profile with his strong cheekbones and thick eyebrows, his soft blonde hair spiked upward in the front. Suddenly those perfect hazel eyes were staring back with the same studious intensity.

"You checking me out?" Cato teased.

Peeta laughed, "Maybe. It's a pretty good view."

Cato nudged Peeta playfully. "I thought I'd have to go through all this alone. I'm just unbelievably happy you're here with me. It doesn’t feel real, like I don’t deserve it."

Peeta looked downcast at his feet and then back up at Cato.

"What if I fucked it all up?"

Cato quirked an eyebrow.

"How so? You're alive and that's all that matters. No one knows you took the berries or almost died."

Peeta shook his head. "No I mean I did some pretty rebellious things in the games. I never really told you about the song I sang to Katniss as she passed... It's illegal in my district. And now I've brought President Snow's wrath on us. He is not happy I outmaneuvered the Gamemakers. Cato, we could be in just as much danger as we were in the Games because of me." Peeta warned in a grave tone.

Cato held on to Peeta's arms tightly as he bent to kiss him tenderly drawing from Peeta’s body the anxiety. When he pulled his lips away he took Peeta's air with him. He could barely remember what he had been ranting about, only the feel of Cato's lips against his.

"Peeta, babe, I'm not worried. It doesn't matter. None of it does. Whatever comes our way we can face it. Like we always do. Together."

He looked into those deep hazel eyes of Cato and knew it to be true. He was right. They had proven time and again that they were capable of extraordinary things for each other. The anthem began to play and Peeta should have been expecting it, but he found himself unprepared as Caesar called them to the stage. Cato slipped his hand into Peeta's and they molded together perfectly. Cato would feed Peeta the strength he needed because that's what they did. They carried the other through the hard times and celebrated mutually in the joyous ones. _Cato Ryves is the man I love and together I know we can make it through anything._ And with that final thought in Peeta's mind they walked out on stage together with fingers clasped tightly, the blinding lights and roar of the approving crowd enveloping them like a warm blanket, welcoming the coupled victors back to the world.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s over, my first ever fanfic story completed! I hope this last chapter gave you everything you wanted and more. Please tell me what you loved, hated, made you laugh or cry and whatever else you might have felt about this story. Constructive criticism on what could have made this story better is also always appreciated. And if interested I am working on a sequel, Burning Down, the first few chapters are already posted over on fanfictiondotnet and as I ramp start posting more chapters I will add them to this site too.


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